LapTopping – 71 – “Nice Slacks”
LapTopping – The Bit Long, Official E-zine of The Bedroom Philosopher
Friday May 15, 2009.
New album Brown & Orange available now on itunes, in shops, or by mail order with a lipstick kiss from me.
“Its a lavish production and a thrillingly entertaining and equally exhausting listening experience.” Inpress
“It is (like the man himself) entirely enjoyable, entirely likeable, and entirely odd.” Album of the week, BMA.
“…ample music invention flavours his dreams of alien abduction, caged bears and Jesus on Big Brother, and unlike the accidentally funny troubadours out there, he knows every joke should have a point.” The Age.
Happy Birthday Mike Oldfield (Tubular Bells) 56 today!
Happy Birthday Brian Eno 61 today!
STREET TEAM RECRUITAROO!
National crew required to put up posters in indie record stores and on the back of Nan’s! Put up about 20 posters and get yourself on the door plus a high five hug! (A jump in the air high five that ends in a hug. It’s like ice-skating on land.) Personnel required in Melbourne-Canberra-Sydney-Newcastle-Brisbane-Adelaide-Perth n Hobart. Just email me your name and address and recent blu-tak / sticky taping experience.
Mega turbo thanks to the Melbourne Street Team for their chivalrous efforts handing out flyers during Comedy Festival. Five stars moforino’s!
PROPOSED SEQUELS TO KUNG-FU PANDA
Spoken Word Meerkat
Table Tennis Octopus
Jujitsu Tetra dactyl
Lawn Bowls Budgie
Zen Buddhist Platypus
Swing Dance Whale
NEW SEGMENT! TINY LEGENDS.
On any given day a meek, beautiful, funny or odd incident may occur – so comparatively insignificant that we soon dismiss it. Here at LapTopping we want to set these moments eloquently in the digital cement of time. These personal moments are the essence of the divine comedy of human existence. Allow me to example:
From Justin Heazlewood:
“I was riding past traffic lights on my bike. A young teenager was with his Mother. As I approached I saw him swing his leg up and kick the traffic light button with his foot. His Mum snapped ‘don’t do that please!’ The kid seemed unrepentant.”
“On the Number 8 tram. An empty Schweppes Lemonade can was having a solo rolling adventure. I started to get emotionally invested in its journey. It was banging from side to side for a while, getting small run ups but then being dashed against a seat. Eventually, it rolled out of sight which made me pleased. Later, it returned and I was scared it was going to be crushed. I ended up taking it and putting it in my bag, singing a song about the ‘little lemonade can’ in my head.”
“I was having a vague out in the Carlton baths swimming pool. I started picking my toe nails. Suddenly aware of how inappropriate my actions were, and the presence of fellow swimmers, I twisted around and pretended I was doing a leg stretch.”
“I was walking with a friend, talking about Black Cat lollies, and how I never liked them. At the precise moment that I mentioned Black Cats I turned to stare directly at a black cat, sitting on the front path of a house. It was almost identical to my old pet cat, Blossum.”
EMAIL US YOUR TINY LEGENDS.
INANIMATE OBJECT BEREAVEMENT NOTICES
There are currently no notices. Are you or a friend suffering the loss or illness of an inanimate object? Do let the LapTopping community know.
SEND YOUR BEREAVEMENT NOTICES TO THIS ADDRESS.
GET A WRIGGLE ON GOOGLET!
Phrases people have typed into Google to land on my website:
NOTE: My site is now number 1 for the phrase ‘the world is f@#$ed.’
“books that teach onamatapoeia”
“commodore 64 adelaide club”
“hobart airport urinals”
“child is sick and bedroom smells like bread”
“how a shy girl can be seductive”
“girls in the crowd at the cricket”
“how to busk with a clarinet”
“i think what nick sun needs is a big warm hug”
“goth girl smoking on flinders street station steps”
“what is up today at club penguin because things are sopost to be their”
“hexagon colonel urinal”
“drag racing bedroom ideas”
“molly dye how do you get boot polish out of jean”
TIME IS CHEESE AND MOUSE IS HUNGRY!
A GIGGLE OF GIGS
May 22 – Appearing on a ‘hypothetical panel’ for emerging writers festival. BMW Edge Theatre, Federation Square. 7pm.
Melbourne Comedy Festival Roadshow (w/ Greg Fleet & Sam Simmons).
May 26 – Rutherglen.
May 27 – Yarrawonga.
May 28 – Swan Hill.
May 29 – Robinvale.
May 30 – Broken Hill.
Brown & Orange National Tour.
All gigs feature two sets, solo and w/ The Awkardstra. Special guest Josh Earl.
July 1 – Sydney – Bar Me.
July 2 – Canberra – ANU.
July 3 – Newcastle – Lass’o’gowrie.
July 5 – Brisbane – The Troubadour.
July 9 – Melbourne – Toff In Town (w/ Merri-May Gill (Brisbane). Josh Earl MC.)
July 12 – Hobart – The Republic (w/ Charles Du Cane, No Josh Earl).
July 16 – Burnie – Stagedoor Cafe (Solo)
(Brought to you by Lost In Translation the pinball game. The world’s first minimalist pinball machine. See how long you can keep Bill Murray’s head in play, at 100000 release ‘Multiplot’ with Scarlett Johansen entering the fray.)
Until April 19 2009, I’d never broken a bone, and I was proud of my track record. This long lasting love affair with self preservation came crashing down along with me and my push bike. I was three quarters through my season in the Melbourne Comedy Festival. It was the Sunday of a Tuesday-Sunday run and I was feeling somewhat ’emotionally volatile.’ I’d visited a friend to sell her my spare pedal tuner for some cash flow, bolted over to safeway and done my patented ‘shopping without a list wandering the aisles scowling over every item’ routine. I had a backpack bulging with goods and I was in a rush to get home and cook some chops in time to have a nap before my show. I was cycling dangerously, and I knew it. It was night, I had no lights on my bike and dark clothes on. I gunned up to the intersection, which was red and thought, ‘hey look at me, I’m a bike, I can do what I want.’ I burned around the intersection and pedalled as fast as I could down a busy main street. I was hitting my top speed when in front of me a parked car flung open its driver’s side door. I had one second to sit with the fact that I was about to ride straight into it.
I flew through the air like a bony ghost. It was dark, the blood was hurtling to my head. Instincts activated. My body braced itself. The bike came with me. I couldn’t tell you the maths of what happened. I landed with a full-blooded thud, directly on my right shoulder. It must have looked terrible. At first I was winded, slightly in shock. I lay on my side, still alive, an instant survivor. A young couple loomed over me.
‘Mate are you all right?’
‘Do you need an ambulance?’
‘Can you sit up?’
‘Move your fingers.’
‘I didn’t see you.’
My first response was to laugh. I was tipsy with adrenalin. ‘Ha, oh man, oh f*&k, I totally stacked my bike.’ I’d been a tightly compacted spring for so long; this crash had unravelled me. Sure, I was stunned and scratched and smacked around, but the pain wasn’t piercing, and there was something already darkly amusing about it. I’d been running myself at maximum speed for two whole months and now I’d been stubbed out in a second by a giant hand. I’d crashed my bike like a twelve year old and was sprawled out like a drugged dog. It felt like life was sharing a divine joke. A hyperactive uncle pulling the rug from under me, leaning over with whiskey breath and grinning. ‘Hey kiddo, seriously, there’s only so much you can do. Take five you bozo.’
I told the couple I didn’t want an ambulance because I couldn’t afford it. Clearly my brain hadn’t been injured in the accident. My first instinct was to check my guitar strumming arm that had taken the fall. I almost cried. My favourite lambswool cardigan was torn at the elbow! The couple who’s car I’d hit offered to take me to a hospital, but I thought I should just go home. It turns out they were off duty policeman! It explained why they were so efficient at checking on me. Once I was home I sat on my bed holding ice to my shoulder as it began to clamp up. I had a little weep. This was appalling timing. I rang my best mate Tammy, and we taxi’d to Royal Melbourne hospital. After an obligatory wait in emergency (I was tempted to reprise the junkie character from my show and ask why it was taking so long) my arm was x-rayed and I was informed I’d broken my arm. I would have to cancel the rest of my Comedy Festival Shows. Alone in the doctors office, my heart sank. ‘You f$%ked up,’ I thought. Like a lung, my heart revived again. I looked up at the bright lights, my arm in a sling, my legs dangling over the bed and chuckled in disbelief. ‘Finally, you get a break.’
Q. Was it really your humerus?
Q. Was it really on the 86 line?
A. Well, it was just off it. We had to beat up the story a bit for the press release.
Q. You should have caught the 86 tram! Has anyone said that?
Q. Were you wearing a helmet?
A. Yes, and I didn’t hit my head at all.
Q. Was it the driver’s fault? Are they liable?
A. I was riding at night in dark clothes without lights, and he is a policeman, somehow I don’t like my chances in a court of law.
Q. Were they cranky?
A. No, they were completely lovely. They even knocked on the neighbours door to see if it was okay to chain my bike up. The neighbour brought out some ice in a bag (not the drug). Everyone was very kind. Well, excect there was some old geezer who thought it’d be helpful twenty seconds after the crash to lean over and say ‘you should have had lights on.’ Too soon Pops!
Q. Are you covered by the TAC for loss of income?
A. I’ve put an application in, but I think you have to have an income first. Seriously though, they have a rule where they won’t claim for the first five days after the accident, which would have been my final run of shows. I may be able to average out earnings based on my last tax return, but I’m not sure. They do cover hospital and physio costs though.
Q. Do you have a cast?
A. No, I’m still writing the screenplay. Seriously though, you couldn’t put a cast on it because its right up near the shoulder. It was just in a sling, which started to smell funny after a week so I washed it in the shower. Also, it would get crumbs in it a lot. There was a great moment where I tried returning some Mini HD tapes to Ted’s Camerahouse, but i’d passed the fourteen day return period. So I moped out and stood outside on a busy Elizabeth street just reaching into my sling and flinging crumbs out onto the street. Breaking your arm as an adult isn’t as fun as when you’re a kid. People can’t write on your sling and my Mum was nowhere to be seen.
Q. Do they charge you to cancel your shows?
A. Someone mentioned a rumour that Ticketmaster have a $100 per show cancellation fee, but I’m yet to investigate. The thing that hurts most of all is I could have made up to $4000 if I’d sold out the remaining six shows. Camp me doesn’t think about that. Quick Camp Me, distract me with something…”would Vulcan girls be good in bed? They sure would be logical…”
Q, Did you consider getting someone to play guitar?
A. I did consider it, but there wasn’t enough time for anyone to learn that much of a show and pull it off. Also, I had no backings to the songs.
Q. How’s the arm now?
A. It only hurts when I roll on it in bed. I can’t lift my arm above 45 degrees though, and it may be like that for a couple of months. I can’t do any heavy lifting for three months.
Q. But your ego, how are you going to carry that around?
Q. What terrible timing. I’m so sorry for you.
A. Seriously, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I was taking my body for granted.
Q. Quit smoking then.
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