Friday, July 09, 2010

Idle, I haz it

I don't really but the blog haz.
Three days at the home this week.
I will just take a minute to unpack my brain.
Damn, I forgot where I left it.
Think, where do I hide the chocolate.
Thank the Goddess, brain and left over chocolate.
Sorry can't blog, eating chocolate.
Can't blog tomorrow either, smashing scales with hammer.


Jayne said...

You're doing what to whom???!!!
Make sure you get the $ out of them before you wield that hammer.

Fen said...

Our brains have possibly absconded together!

Andrew said...

Except you just did blog. Btw, do you have a new email address or are you ignoring me?

R.H. said...

Bellair Street Kensington yesterday, me and my biographical subject enter same little cafe for third Friday in three weeks, bloke behind counter knows what we'll order: two iced coffees; says "Hi guys," thinking we're a pair of poofs, get revenge on your scales by eating them.

JahTeh said...

Jayne I mean the weighing scales, they frighten me.

Fen, it's the details that clutter up brains, they obscure the big picture like me being happy at some stage.

Andrew, email on the way. Your fault for going on holidays and missing all the news.

Rh, I'd rather eat chocolate which why the scales have to go.

River said...

Don't smash those scales. Donate them to your local op-shop.

I'm glad you found the chocolate, have you located the brain yet?

Mmmm, chocolate.........

Jayne said...

Scales are unreliable unless you're measuring on perfectly level concrete.
So says my ostrich head in the sand.
And I'm living by it.

Middle Child said...

Excuses excuses!!!

R.H. said...


Me and my biographical subject sat outside a little cafe in Bellair Street Kensington. Down the other end of Bellair there's an empty town hall, and somewhere in between Hal Porter's pretend Balcony. I'd told the spiv behind the counter I was a bloke not a "guy" and when he brought our iced coffees out I switched them in case he'd spat in mine.
It's said that the Maribyrnong River around here used to bubble and ferment from animal guts poured into it from Newmarket abbatoirs. And there were the tanneries as well; scrapings from hides. As a boy on my way to Newport Railway Workshops I remember an unbearable stink from the tanneries when the train pulled into South Kensington Station. You could travel blindfolded and know when you'd reached there.
But the tanneries are gone, so are the abbatoirs, so are the workers. And although their little wooden houses looking like backyard dunnies are now selling for $700,000 and a $5.00 iced coffee is really worth about 80 cents, Kensington is the one gentrified part of Melbourne where I would not be ashamed to live.
It's intact.
Prahran, Richmond, Fitzroy, Yarraville....are gone, disinfected, but they'll never clean Kensington, not of the longing the poor get up to. Hardship is in the topography itself. And the old, old trees.

Ozfemme said...

keep the scales for weighing the left-over chocolate. that's how I know my kids haven't been at mine.

JahTeh said...

Jayne, I go by weighing on carpet and subtracting 3kgs for that, it'a amazing what a difference it makes.

Therese, excuses are what fat old tarts excel at, and eating chocolate.

River, I hate the new cardboard packets for chocolate, it's too hard to hide the empties. You used to be able to scrooch them up and ignore how many there were but not any more.

Rh, I know how much my little hovel has risen in value, I read the real estate papers.

Oz, I know you hide your chocolate stash under the pillow, now send me some Haigh's or I'll tell your kids.