the family farm

Right now a log fire burns as my older sister prepares jars of her famous home-made chili jam. No television, no mobile reception. My younger sister Natalie Ruth gently strums her guitar as I hum along and dwell on nothing in particular. The simplest pleasures rule this winter kingdom.

Where am I? Why, I am tucked away in the mountains of Kimbriki at my sisters farmhouse, 4 hours drive north of Sydney. Cathy (said older sister), is 5 months pregnant with my future nephew and the first of our familys next generation. I simply had to visit her to cuddle her growing baby bump and shower her with brotherly affection.

Although these days I am a city boy through and through, nothing makes me happier then these simple, quiet, family infused moments. The stars outside are blinding and in their millions. A deep frost is already settling across the paddocks.

I am one very happy lad right now. One very happy, very sleepy lad. Who knew an open fire could make you more dozy than any codeine strength sleeping pill?

Sleep tight kids.

xx

roll with the punches

Sometimes, life gives you lemons to make lemonade.
Other times, life pretends it's giving you lemons while really its waiting to surprise attack you with a kitchen knife then squeeze the acidic lemon juice into all the little wounds and run away cackling while you moan on the floor in searing-citrus pain.

Last week my agent said a casting director was very keen to meet me regarding a new 'Olay' campaign. With a ridiculous amount of money on the table, a print/television commercial and travel to Asia on offer, I was keener than mustard. My keeness made mustard look like a nonchalant brick wall. I decided to cease drinking immediately, focused on eating raw green vegetables in the three days prior to my casting, and drank as much water as humanly possible to ensure a radiant complexion by Monday (aka D-Day).

Then, disaster struck. I awoke Sunday with a breakout that would severely hinder my chances at booking this job. I hauled ass to my doctor and got him to prescribe a medication of tyra-banks-intensity to rid my face of this unexpected obstacle, downed the tablets and breathed a sigh of relief. Got to bed early, ready to meet the director first thing.

Cue Monday morning.
Cue insane reaction to said medication.
Cue swollen lips and cheeks, to the point that I look like I have been repeatedly punched in the face while someone injected botox erratically from the neck up.
Cue attempt to cover it all up with housemates make-up.
Cue fail attempt.

In the end, I had to cancel my casting, and some other lucky motherfather will have booked it. But shit happens, right? Sure, I was bummed about the entire situation, and as my Asian friend Kym pointed out when we caught up later in the day, I was a fucking miserable bastard. But I know that in three months time, I'll look back at today and realise in hindsight that there was a reason this particular opportunity didn't work out for me. You can't win 'em all, kids.

PS. Later Monday afternoon, Kym and I were picking movies to be my 'mope around the apartment' buddies. She suggested the film pictured below. Snap, biatch.

sunday funday

That's right, its Sunday again. Time for another entertaining round of:

THIS WEEK I...

- Found out that corn chips are rather sharp. Proceed/consume with extreme caution.
- Was informed my sister is expecting a little boy. I was overjoyed at this news at first, then slightly disheartened when I realized this kid will grow up a country-country type, riding horseback to school everyday while shearing a sheep and such. Luckily, he will have gay uncle Simon for regular cultural influence classes. Phew.
- Attended a 'Body Pump' class instead of Yoga with my wonderful Asian friend Kym. Realised before/during/after said class that Body Pump has nothing in common with Yoga. I still can't fucking walk properly.
- Noted that whenever I mention Kym, a reference to her Asian nationality is always present. Not entirely relevant, but it works and there are no plans to cease this practice in the foreseeable future.
- Awoke one morning with a new female, red-haired Prime Minister. She also has an uncanny resemblance to my mother. I trust her and President Obama will have a few drinks in celebration of the now-dead 'white male' era.

a familiar face

Goodness me, I am exhausted. As I type this my eyelids are having a not-so-secret battle with gravity, but I am committed to the blog cause. Sighs of relief all round, I'm sure.

I was sitting in my favorite Darlinghurst cafe this evening, enjoying the crisp air and an evening espresso. While watching people stroll the evening away, I recognised a guy from another lifetime. Although I could not recall his name, memories flooded back of spending time with him on many occasions, taking road trips together with other friends up the coast, laughing our summers away.

This man was once someone I considered myself close to, someone I did life with. Four years down the track and such a distance has grown between us that can't remember his name. Reading this, you would think this would have invoked sadness as I watched him walk away. On the contrary - it was quietly beautiful. A happy nostalgia, if you will. Seeing a familiar face stroll by, unaware of being observed, then gradually disappear into the night.

A subtle, natural moment. At least in my humble opinion.

xx

a thought; rambling.

Perhaps the pursuits of our hands are trivial, and the desires of our eyes selfish. But the longing, the dreams and the power that beats within ones heart? Well that, my friend, simply must be pure. The passion that engulfs me from time to time is not of myself, and not of this world. It is a spiritual nudging, a cosmic moment where clarity is both apparent and non-existent at the same time, for it is clouded by the very excitement it invokes.

A realization born of the present, but spoken of the future. A premonition.

little ms fox

Check out these shots of Megan Fox getting freaky with an identical mannequin for a shoot featured in 'Interview Magazine'.

This sounds like the dream date - someone who looks exactly like you who cannot speak, attempt to have sex with you when you're hungover or steal your favorite DVDs. Also, you get to drink for two because no, they won't down any of your prized vodka aka liquid-heaven-in-a-bottle.

Foxy, you're onto something good.

Enjoy, kidlets!

*

We shall walk this road together, you and I, relishing in the glorious uncertainty of it all.

I wait for you.

mindsight hindsight

A few chuckle worthy memories from the last 7 days, in easy-to-read dot point form. Fun? Oh yes.

THIS WEEK I...

- Found further appreciation for the comedy of Russell Brand.
- Almost got hit by a bus. Note to self, turn iPod down and look both ways when crossing the road.
- In reference to previous note, I discovered a bus horn can drown out your tunes, no matter what the volume.
- Furthered my list of 'Tasty Things To Do With Gin". Kudos.
- Got pretty pissed off at my knees for going weak over someone unworthy. Considered breaking my own kneecaps as their punishment...got tired at the thought and took a nap instead.
- Mentally did several hundred dirty things to sexy strangers I passed on the street.
- Ate more sushi than you could poke a (chop)stick at.
- Decided that winter is worth it if I get to keep wearing oversized knitwear that makes me feel like a giant Olsen twin and a cuddly sofa at the same time. Bliss
- Died a little inside when Rebecca Jobson and Katie Hansen explained the meaning of a 'dolmio grin'. Dirty, dirty girls.

xx

fashion fail # 2

oh, Maggie Gyllenhaal.

Just because your brother is the gorgeous, 'noticed' one - is it really necessary for you to literally fade into the background? Or, in this case, fade into the curtains/drapes/tablecloth?

Attach the beige hoop-earrings to the excess of navy cloth, and you've got a ready made window covering . Hardly red carpet material. Wow, so many interior decoration references...

RUN FOREST, RUN!

Allow me to set the scene - after attending the launch of 'Beach Haus' in Kings Cross, one very drunk boy decides it is a smashing idea to save that cab fare and take the train home solo. Obviously, this very drunk boy is me. Obviously, I forgot I was wearing a quite flamboyantly homosexual outfit consisting of military boots, multi layers and all topped off with an S&M/Sunday-at-the-horse-stables leather harness. On the fashion scene, this array of threads wouldn't bring an eyelid to bat. On public transport - all bets are off.

I safely get to Central station where my journey requires me to change trains. Whilst climbing a flight of stairs, the inevitable happens - i trip. This was not, however, a cute little oh-how-awkward kind of trip. This was an all out, holy-fuck-I'm-airborne face plant. Once I got to my feet, I am met with the gaze of five very large Russian men of around forty years old. I'm not sure exactly how I know they were Russian - they weren't playing with babushka dolls or downing vodka to keep warm in the snow, but for all fictional purposes they were clearly born in Moscow.

I quietly made my way onto the waiting train to continue my journey home, ignoring the evil looks of death these fat men were throwing my way. The doors closed, and I looked back out onto the platform, holding eye contact with one particularly disgusted looking man. Now for the clincher - as the train pulled away from the platform, this man started running alongside the carriage, screaming "faggot" at the top of his lungs and making the classic 'blow-job' gesture with his fist.

Now, usually a display of homophobia such as this would trigger a "go fuck yourself" response from me. But this time I simply smiled - after all, who looked more like an idiot? The gay boy being mocked, or the overweight, middle-aged heterosexual man running alongside an inner city train simulating a cock being inserted into his mouth?

Epic fail, old man Moscow.

xx

fashion fail #1

Celebrities ought to be judged. Welcome to the sporadic 'fashion fail' entries - where I 'tear the threads to shreds'. Oh yeah son, it fucking rhymes. First victim....


Christina Ricci is gorgeous - but should she be concerned that her dress resembles a giant lizard/stingray swallowing her from the waist up? The mouth is almost at her shoulders. Babe, fight your way out using your pendant earrings as weapons and then shoot the stylist.

LETS PARTY

Me and my some of my friends like to party. A lot. Comparably, we like to party as much as Christina Aguilera once liked to get her gear off...oh wait, she's doing that again isn't she? The whole 'Bionic' thing? Reinventions are tiring and difficult to keep up to date on, and boring to discuss. Moving forward...

Last night we hit the town, 4 venues over 6 hours, 12 different types of liquor consumed. We danced, we laughed, we got a little hazy and I may or may not have kissed a boy. Okay, you dragged it out of me - I totally did. Take that, conservative society.

One thing I love to observe when I'm out and about is the members of the party scene who take it seriously. In Sydney, there are many professions in which one must somewhat be a party animal to be successful. Within the realms of Fashion, PR or any form of social media work, the ability to head out for a few drinks several times a week is considered a prerequisite. Obviously, you don't have to get naked and swing from a chandilere to get ahead within these industries, but you get the idea. Luckily for me, most of my social time is purely recreational, but I have a newfound respect for those who appear to be socialising when really, they're working their asses off to network and further their careers. When I'm downing my third gin in ten minutes, they're politely sipping a sparkling water in order to stay sober. When I'm losing myself in fits of laughter because every uttered word is the funniest thing I've ever heard, they're chuckling quietly while trying to figure out exactly why that joke was so fucking funny.

So I propose a toast, a lift my glass (literally) to the troopers, the ones who work while we run around like crazy motherfuckers - cheers, kids. Without you...well, I think all would pretty much be the same, but you impress me anyway.

xx