wayneo, wano, wayno, way-noh, wayan #0, way-neoh, neighwo……..

dear frank,
great to see you again…funny how I was thinking about you just the last cuppladaze.

That happens to me ALL THE TIME, but usually with music…I will think of an artist, and their song is played on the radio…but that is an easy example.Often, and I do mean often, I will see an ad for let’s say a new release CD that will make me think of an event thirty eight odd years ago where so-und-so died while fucking who-und-whom. All of a thingo, the radio starts playing a track written by the wife of the lead singer of the band that so-und-so’s T-shirt was advertising.

Now SHE was actually having dirty little liaisons with a catholic high school art teacher (the school, not the teacher, although, for the purposes of this account, both may be considered catholic, at least nominally (actually at MOST nominally, as the so-called religious at the school, mostly brothers, some priests, could often be found on a Friday and Saturday night at the Leederville hotel with their arm around a not totally unrootable sheila of the almost finest order (pun intended-perhaps she was a nun?), not the accepted behaviour of a robed teacher at that time, but then, the witness of these transgressions was himself entering and consuming alcohol within licensed premises while several years below the legal age for such entering and consuming. Therefore, the veracity of this statement must be called into doubt, not because of any impairment to the memory gland given the intervening years, nor because of any impairment to such gland caused by the demon liquor, but simply because no court of law would consider a statement given, notwithstanding of free and enthusiastic will, to be admissible for two reasons. One, the age of the witness at the time of said alleged offence, and two, the fact that the witness, youthful though he may have been, was at that very time having an intensely carnal education between the thighs of the girl who would in fact become the magistrate of mention…

Nevertheless, imagine the shock of Brother Terry and his cronies, who’s reaction to being sprung more-or-less in flagrante delecto was to shout, piously, ”FUCK OFF!”, if they were to find out that Miss Bell was in fact not only nippling her way through the fantasies of the year ten boys, but also lezzing her way through the local rock scene, not to leave out the year ten girlz!) who, blatantly ignoring the school principal’s instructions, taught the third year high school art class SANS BRASSIERE!!! Ain’t life grand!

My Dad sent this email to a mate of his. I think I’ve found where my mad writing skillz come from.

Dear Coke Talk…

I effing love this woman. You have a moral duty to add dearcoketalk to your blogroll right this very second.

For about a month I entertained the idea that it was actually written by my friend Bek, who lived in L.A. for a while. But Bek returned, and dear coke talk just kept bloggin’ along. So alas, my dreams of discovering her true identity remain exactly that. (Yes, that is my submission! Yesssssssssss!)

I’m envious that she knows exactly what she thinks. It’s as if she has thought out every single eventuality of every single decision and what she would do in that circumstance. I sort of have a vague idea of my moral standards, but having been in the fortunate (or is it?) position of not having them tested very often, I’m still not sure.

I’d like to be sure.

Books I Love…

I’m a reader. A big one. I do go through phases where I don’t have the headspace to read anything at all, but then BAM! I’m straight back into them again. I often find that when I feel stressed or unsure or scared or in any way emotional, I like to go back an re-read books that made me feel amazing the first time around.

So I thought I start a regular section called Books I Love, to share with you all some of my favourite reads. So here we go……Numèro Un:

I just adore Sebastian Faulks. I love the way he writes. Such detail!

It’s a story of a young Scottish lass who, after being told her pilot lover has disappeared over occupied France, decides to train as a spy and work for the French Resistance. I wont tell you any more, but if you love the 1940’s and war stories with a human side, then read this. I keep seeing it everywhere in op-shops, so I’m taking it as a cosmic sign that I need to read it again.

There are a few moments in this novel that are a bit of an emotional wrench. The way Faulks writes about love – it really is wonderful. I love the character of Peter so much, actually I love them all! It really got me thinking about the idea of being honourable. Magnifique.

I saw the film with Cate Blanchett a long time before I read the book, and as always, the book was so much better than the film.

Having said that, I did love the film, and I absolutement loathe it when people whinge about film adaptations. They are film adaptations. There’s no way they can put the entire book up on screen, there’s just not enough time. When I see a film of a book I love, all I care about is that the film makes me feel the same way that the book did. That sort of lifting feeling, where all the characters are your friends and everything is just heavenly.

There’s nothing better than looking forward to going to bed, because then you get to read your book! Or when you pray that no-one you know will get on the bus, because all you want to do is ignore the real world and delve into a make believe one. Bliss

Making Plans…

The BF and have decided to move to a small town in Wales. It’s so unbelievably picturesque around here, and in that regard the decision was easy. But there have been other things that have made this decision a difficult one.

We’ve both lived in cities for a long time. I’ve gotten used to just hopping on a bus and going wherever I want. Getting whatever I want easily. It’s not like that here. There aren’t cool vintage shops, or swing dancing classes or even cinemas close. That troubled me.



We went for a walk just before sunset last night, and we came to a conclusion that was basically “fuck it”. We’ve got two, glorious, responsibility free years here, and we’re going to live wherever we want. If nothing happens here, we’ll make it happen. It was a very liberating thought. So, drumroll, if you will…..we’ve decided to cross this:

with this:

and creating a Spring Outdoor Film Festival! We want to keep it pretty small to begin with, and we’re thinking about having it over a weekend, showing three films. I want to have it in a field, really casual, so people can bring a picnic and a blanket and just enjoy being outside.

I really want to feel part of a community, and I think that if we make things happen – we’ll get there.

We’re both going to use our arts know-how and harass the general population into action. They’ll come and they’ll damn well enjoy it!

Flickr images from wexnercenter and akademy’s photostream respectively.


I have a love hate relationship with souvenirs. I always, but always, think they’re a good idea at the time. They always, but always, cost an arm and a leg. Are they worth it? is the question of the day/week/life.

I’ve found a few divine things in my time, but I love this “London in a Bag” from Muji. It actually reminds me of forcing asking my Mum to play building blocks with me as a chillun. I think I was enchanted to see my Mum, who was “A Grown Up” play with children’s things. Like the way it shocked me when I saw her cry for the first time. I actually thought Grown Ups didn’t cry. But that’s by the by.

The point of the matter is I love this and I want to buy it for theargumentofmineownscorn, who just happens to be my sister.