Coulda Woulda Shoulda

Coulda: bought this damn fine cosi from the Finders Keepers on the weekend

Woulda: looked like a fabulous Siren by the poolside on my pacific island holiday and equally retro-chic at pyramid rock with all the hipsters

Shoulda: been more irresponsible with my cash

Cactus
x

Short Notice

So have you been listening to triple j over the last few days? If you haven't here's the story up 'til now...

I was walking to work on Wednesday morning. It was a nice day: clear and crisp. I was having one of those 'isn't life great' moments. I was listening to triple j when Tom Tilley came on air and told Tom and Alex a predicament he was in: gig booked for Saturday night...but no one in his band could make it. Ummmmm.....help?

Alex piped up, keen to offer his keytar skills, Tom was then volunteered to play keys/synth. They recruited Lewi McKirdy from weekends for sticks and skins, and Damo from the web team on guitar. But no singer. What was the logical thing to do? Put a call out to triple j listeners.

'How funny would it be if I called?' I thought. But didn't and kept walking.

Some lamo guys who liked Pearl Jam phoned and threatened to make Tom Tilley like Pearl Jam (or else). And that's when the boys asked for a 'lady singer' to call up.

If that not a direct request, I don't know what it.
So I called and got through to their producer Ollie. I asked Ollie if the boys were joking. They weren't - he put me through. After screening me for availability and what music I was loving at the moment, I was in the band. Shit.

I waited for a set list that came through lunch time Thursday and freaked quietly when I realised what I'd volunteered myself to do: learn seven songs in two days. what was I thinking? The air wasn't so crisp anymore and my walk from the morning had worn off. Needless to say, I wasn't loving life as much as I had been the day before.

I rocked up to rehearsals, met the boys and got stuck into it. We weren't great. We weren't even good. And I think Alex Dyson secretly wanted to take lead vocals on Savage Garden's 'Break me Shake me'. They played us back on radio Friday morning. Jesus. We weren't just not good...we were terrible.

Friday came and I jigged work to get to know the Short Notice set list a little better...prac time rolled around and we made it through kind of okay-ish. I mean, we were better than Thursday but still sketchy as. The boys talked boy stuff after prac and as I sipped my beer I ran through horror stage scenes in my head. An old memory of playing the Bald Faced Stag hit me: curtains opening to reveal the two town drunks. That was my low point - surely tomorrow wouldn't be worse than that?

Saturday: one last run through. They boys had prepped and floralised their wardrobes. Bow-ties and upwards caps. They were ready for the gallery room in the Oxford Arts Factory. We sound checked half an hour before our starting time: the venue was empty. I ran away to Nevada, had some dirty cab wine and returned to a bustling room.

The keytair busted out the opening riff to Miami Horror's 'Sometimes' and it began. We raced through our songs, I made up jibberish lyrics and tried not to laugh through Sonia Dada. Fantabulous Brendan Macloud closed the night by hopping up and joining us, flamenco style, for Gaga's Telephone (which we royally f***d: hysteria) and then it was over. Just like that.

I'm still in a little bit of shock that we actually pulled off a half hour set ... that didn't suck that badly. Their producer said he hadn't expected it to be that good. A compliment really.

Thanks for coming those who did - was definitely one of the funnest times I've had of late.
For a more succinct tale of events check Tom and Alex's blog

love,
cactus
x

I wanna be...

Ramona Flowers.....

Although Clementine from Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless mind is the original crazy haired lady. Ramona's the next generation.
Still. Amazing. Hair.

love,
cactus
x

The Kids Are All Right

I love it when I know I'm going to love a movie as soon as the credits roll up. It was something about the sketchy type and vampire weekend soundtrack mixed with images of kids riding bikes, skateboards, snorting speed and then punching on in front of a televised wrestling match that made me know that 'The Kids Are All Right' was for me.

This is one of the most authentic and funny movies that I've seen come out of Hollywood. This unconventional family stole my heart, every member was such a well-formed, true person that I loved them all the more for their flaws. No one was idealised, no one was vilanised and this is one of the films that doesn't throw the only funny lines into the trailer.

Anette Benning is incredible as was her on screen wife Julianne Moore - and their relationship was so believable. Mark Ruffalo was excellent as the mister cool organic sperm doner to kids Mia Wasikowska and Josh Hutcherson who bring authentic teen characters to the screen.

What I loved about this film was the awkward moments. No one ever says cool comebacks at exactly the right time and that's what this movie did. It really drew out those awkward human moments in life. And I just loved that. One of my faves was when Annette Benning went on a rant about how they can feel good about themselves because they started to compost.

Not everyone in the cinema got it. My friend and I were in a pretty packed cinema, and there was only a few of us laughing hysterically the entire time. But if you think you tend to see things a little left of centre, then this is definitely the movie for you.



Thanks to The Crafty Minx for the tix - the saving there allowed me an extra choc-top :)

love,
cactus

They're the best

A while ago I posted a song called 'When I'm with you' and said I think Best Coast are my new best band. How true those words were and I didn't even realise the full weight of them at the time!

Crazy for You is Best Coast's first album. Lead singer Bethany Cosetino is twenty-two (yes, I said that with a little bitterness) and has written a half an hour album of sweet as tunes themed around 'that guy', her home town, weed and her cat. Though the word crazy is sang about five hundred times she's totally forgiven because she really does write the perfect alternative pop song.

Zan Rowe, the lucky devil, got to interview her. For the full thing click here.

For an insight into Bethany's picture mind visit her blog.

Apparently they're heading here in March which is so long to wait. I was kinda hoping they'd make an appearance at Pyramid Rock Festival and I could be listening to them into the new year. Can't blame a girl for wanting to live out a summer dream.



Peace,
cactus

Dog

Dog (feat. Lisa Mitchell) by Andy Bull

This is my new best song and I predict it'll be a hit.
Andy Bull feat. Lisa Mitchell - everything they touch turns to gold.

Granted I didn't like him on first viewing, but he's grown on me like an unwanted crush.

yeah,
cactus
x

His name is Mister Tee

Last night I attended the crafty kittens craft club. A club which I actually made with my friend but then dropped out after a disaster flower broach attempt. And whilst I didn't exactly make anything last night, I enjoyed watching the kittens make crobots (crotched robots!) and especially enjoyed the lamb roast, boy talk and the unveiling of Mister Tee, the very first finished DogBot! He was made by the excellent Janine who's craft procrastinations you can see here.

So after I sat around, pretended to type letters (how nice is my typewriter P.S.?), hummed some uke tunes and joined in the giggles we had a photoshoot for Mister Tee. Doesn't he look hot?




Love it. I'll have something to show that I made next club meet. Maybe.

crafty-cats are go,
cactus
x

Hello, Spring.

I've missed you.



Note: You may be thinking - type writer? Relevance? I just won one off ebay see, (it's even light blue like in that pic!) and I'm imagining myself typing out garden party invites and delivering them on my trike which I am also in search of after riding one at my Nan's house on the weekend. That thing rocked the casbah, it even had a basket on the back for groceries or fresh flowers. Definitely my next Spring purchase. I'm also very excited that I can crack open my new Spring perfume - Clinique In Bloom to capture all the fun memories I'm going to create this season.

Floral love,
cactus
x

love MY way

Is it just me or is everyone else in love with Ben Mendelsohn, just a little bit?
Everything he touches turns to gold. I think it has something to do with his voice.
And his looks. Why do men get better looking with age and women just get wrinkly?
Watch Beautiful Kate if ya'll haven't seen it. Amazing. 'Beauty is youth and youth is beauty.'

love(s BM),
cactus
x

The Selby

No matter what's going out there in politico-land, one thing we can all agree on is that buying a beautiful book is money well spent.

On my tax return rampage, in amongst the other justifiable beauties 'The Selby is in Your Place' won my heart. I'm not necessarily an interiors girl but I do love being in other people's homes. Looking at their things and feeling that slight envy (as stated in the book's intro) that they might have a better flat, a cooler job or a hotter partner. If you're even feigning rolled eyes, you can stop right there. Because I know you've had those thoughts on one or more occasion too.

No? You're innocent? Better than the rest of us? Check these pics and tell me you don't want their lives.






Get your green eye on at The Selby

love,
cactus
x

UkeHunt!

Hey - there's no need for that kind of language. I know, long time no see. Forgive my rudeness. I'm not ignoring you. Although I have been flirting with a new interest of late. She's a tenor and the perfect size for my little fingers. Yes friends I've started playing the Ukulele. At first it started out as a little fling on a cheap instrument but I soon knew that this was going to be quite the love affair. I've been such a consumerist lately with tax coming in and the boy paying me back a bit of cash and have been splurging all over the place: gym boots, books, clinique ... but I know that splurging on a tenor timber uke is no mistake.

I'm building a repertoire. Slowly. Sitting in my lounge room strumming my way through She & Him, Black Kids, Lykke Li and Kate Nash. I'm not quite ready for a public performance yet (yes, I know you're all sighing) but the uke's making a comeback, and I'm sure, in no time I'll be busking at a corner near you! Not really. I hate busking. And karaoke. But that's another post.

love u(ke),
cactus,

p.s Check Jim Bradbury's amazing collection above. Droool.
p.p.s if you're keen head to Uke Hunt and check out how mad people are for ukes. Love it. Get on board!

I should've made him a zine

I shouldn't have discounted my initial feelings of losing sleep over what to say. Maybe then I wouldn't have ended up tongue-tied and lost for words.

I decided, on the day, that if I couldn't think of anything cool to say, then the best thing to say would be nothing at all. I thought that was a good plan. I thought BEE would would be moody, brooding and wear sunglasses throughout his Q&A. How wrong I was. And his wit, up-beatness, love for Delta Goodrem and the theme from Tarzan made me love him even more. With great insight into the time he shared an elevator ride with Tom Cruise, to how Elvis Costello hated on him in Rolling Stone causing a moment 'when you're cut down by your idol, in public, at 22, there's a moment there.' to how YA is really hot right now and his publishers are pushing him to write Patrick Bateman 'The Teen Years' it made for the most entertaining, intriguing few hours of my year to date.

The Art Factory was packed. I had a clear plan. Hang towards the back, near the door, when the host was thanking BEE and wrapping up, run for the book table line. And it worked. For once, I had a clear tunnel where I could see straight through the crowd (as opposed to staring at shoulders), it was perfectly silent and questions from the fishbowl made things run along smoothly i.e. 'Are you a top or a bottom?' to which he laughed off and said 'I'm versitle.'

He said he came to Australia because all his hot, drunk L.A friends always say 'You gotta go to Australia man, everyone's really good-looking and they like to drink a lot.' So far he thinks they're right.

So finally the mc was wrapping up and I bolted dragging my girlfriend with me to near enough to the front of the line. We got post-it notes with our name on them. It was two books per person. She got our other friend's name on her post-it cos Bridget's in Mexico. I was freaking out in the line, school girl style, fixing my hair, asking if my hair looked alright (no really is it ok? Or are you just saying that?) I was fiddling with the camera,putting the case away, pulling the case out again until finally we got to the front of the line and there it was, my moment had finally arrived. And I appeared to be WASTING it being silent and coy. So i launched into some heavy word vomit that went something kinda like this:

'It's real good of you doing this, thanks heaps for coming out. Sorry about the covers, the movie ones ended up being cheaper than the originals.'

Meanwhile he was talking about how great everything was and how he was so nervous and felt like he was in a comedy club as opposed to a book launch. He then grabbed Danni's books and smiled when he said 'Bridget?'

'I'm not Bridget.'

Silence.
That's all she said. She may as well have said:

'I'm not really here for you, just came with a friend. No, none for me thanks.'

I jumped up on the stage and barked:

'Bridget's in Mexico and couldn't be here, but she loves ya heaps!'

And I threw my arm around him and smiled awkwardly, half in shock half embarrassed that I'd invaded his personal space while Danni freaked out and didn't remember how to use my camera.

I should have made him a zine. He was totally cool and would have totally taken in, even if to only scan it briefly and throw it away, he would have looked at it. We could have been friends. I've found out today, via twitter, that he's a John Mayer fan. Had I done my research, we could've bonded over a common crush.

Instead I held his hand and thanked him and wished him the best time here in Sydney...LAME!
Not even 'love ya work' nothing.

Sigh. It was pretty amazing though. I got three of my favourite books signed, and I'm pretty sure he signed them 'To Kate, Best Girl Bret Easton Ellis' my friends are convinced it says 'Best Wishes' but I think I know what Bret Easton Ellis signed in my own books.


love,
a totally star-struck, tongue-tied
cactus

P.S how frightened slash nervous slash ecstatic do I look in that pic?
P.P.S People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles
P.P.P.S They made a movie about us

Why do you love books?

Last night I went to a Sydney Design talk about why we love books.

Apart from the incredible wine and deep-fried cauliflower, home-made ricotta and chicken-liver Pâté from Berta, the talk was pretty cool too.

Although I felt odd taking notes in a dimly lit restaurant and was feeling slightly loved up about books from said incredible wine one thing I can definitely remember agreeing with most (other than designers aren't always the greatest public speakers) is that books will never die - people who love books will always love books, and there's a lot of us out there. The room was packed and the mc said they could have sold the event out twice over.

Something I loved is the idea of a book having magic and the ability to slow down time. In our world of micro-boredom and having everything at our fingertips whenever we want it, the act of opening a book and reading is a slow process that can be savoured.

Who doesn't love the smell of ink on paper, the feel of a weighty paper, a matt finish or glossy pics? Something you can keep, hold onto, flag, make notes on and in turn leave our little imprint on the world.

Johanna Featherstone of The Red Room was by far the most insightful with her take unfettered imagination being when you read a poem and every thing goes quiet, and you're only left with your own thoughts. She was also the quickest on her feet when an audience member asked the panel to recite their favourite line from their favourite book: 'I entered the red room' Jane Eyre'

The night made me want to run out and hide in a book store, to hunt out new embellishments and read, read, read.

I'm between books at the moment.
Any suggestions?

love,
book-worm cactus
x

Thievin'

I'm actually a little mad that Zooey Deschanel can sing and write. I mean, didn't she use up all her coupons when she was blessed with a petite figure, big blue eyes and a perfectly straight, blunt fringe? Surely she's thieved something that wasn't meant for her...

Sporting outfits that would make anyone else look frumpy and dated, even her voice is old-worldly with a Grammaphone edge.
But please say you agree with me when I say the hula hoop is overkill. What? Me? Jealous? You tell me someone stunning can sing, song-write and now she can hula hoop too? How do girls like me even stand a chance out there?



I surrender,
love
cactus
x

Wha choo tryin' to say?

It's times like these...







I wish I knew sign language.

love,
cactus
x

What's the object of your affection?

When I was young, the object of my affection was stickers. I was sticker mad. I had a sticker collection which mainly came from bookclub purchases my mother reluctantly paid for. What on earth do you want more for? You don't do anything with them. And I didn't either. I just used to stick them in my album and look at them. Arrange them in different configurations and sometimes, if they were lucky, give out the ones I didn't like to my brother and sister. The really crappy ones that said 'cool' in icicle-style font. I collected stamps and ink pads and embossing powder too.

But for all the stickers I had, all I ever wanted was those ones that the teachers gave out. Those wonderfully round stickers with praise like 'Good Work' and 'Tops!' written on them with some scholarly picture accompanying it like an apple or a smiling pencil man. Once, I opened up the back of my book and I saw the biggest, shiniest sticker I had ever seen. I'd written out all the lyrics to Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer when our teacher had simply asked us to write down our favourite christmas carol - a literal child.

Anyway, the point is when I was about eleven I had a friend whose mum knew the librarian and had access to the teacher's stationary order forms. Low and behold - sticker access. Actual real, genuine teacher stickers - and I could order as many as I want. And I did. The funny thing is though, when I got them and had them all there on a sheet, all for my very self, something changed. They lost all their specialness and it was like I had to grow up on the spot, in that moment.

I don't know about you, but I think life would be a lot easier if teacher stickers were still the object of my affection.

love,
cactus
xx

Oh Bobby.

I should have gone with my instincts. Just stuck to something I know could have worked. A cute, frilled bobby sock with some patent leather mary-janes. Instead I attempted a hipster look: knee-highs with some flat lace ups. I should have known that this was never going to work because I don't look like this:



or this ...



and I especially don't look like this:



Perhaps I would have been able to wear this look in my teens, well before I hit puberty that is. I thought I was destined to be a waif but boy did the summer of my seventeenth year really stuff that plan up. I went away stickly and flat chested, only to arrive back ready for the H.S.C with wide-load style hips and c-cups.

I have to remind myself that just because I like the way something looks, i.e. knee-highs with flat shoes and baggy shirts with mini-skirts, it does not mean that I can wear this look and do it justice. Usually I'm good with dressing for my body-type, but every now and then a whimsical style comes my way and I fold, and fail and spend the day catching glimpses of myself in full length windows and jumping with fright at the woman-child who walks past desperately wanting to look effortlessly chic, but is instead pulling her socks up only to have them roll down her calves seconds later.

Rookie mistake, I know.

love,
curvy-cactus
x

Kids who can wear knee-highs live here.

Dreamy Melbourne.

So as I sit here waiting for my pudding to bake, and after washing up my plates stained with beetroot and fetta salad I wonder if I'm eating these foods because I like them or because I'm trying to recreate a meal that was made for me when I was in Melbourne over the weekend.

I always forget how different Melbourne is to Sydney and when I'm there it always baffles me and I wonder how our two cities became everything the other is not.

A couple of chilly days in St Kilda was just what I needed for inspiration. Walks down Brunswick street, late night curries and drinks at The Black Cat made for eventful evenings while the Tim Burton exhibition, brunches with lovely friends and a visit to Sticky* filled my days.

I'm also very proud of myself for only purchasing ONE item! A stunning little hat from St Kilda markets** from a lady who comes from a family of milliners - a family trade. It was the hat-pin that really sold me though. When I put it on I felt like I'd stepped out from another time and after a very small thinking walk, I had to run back and wear it right there and then.

I stayed with an old friend is his gorgeously kitch St Kilda apartment, and while I teased how cool, and underground slash organic vegan he'd become, I couldn't help feel a little a little pang of envy and how, in a different lifetime, it'd be me he was sharing a flat with. We were obsessed with The Secret Life of us in our teens and he's down there doing what we said we'd always do: strolling along St Kilda beach, living with an alternative crew who have midnight chats and drink red wine out of teacups...but as I learned recently - that old phrase the grass is always greener is horribly true. So maybe I'll live in Melbourne one day, but I think I need to be in Sydney for now.

love,
cactus

*I was able to stock my zine in Sticky! So if you're ever there look out for Love/Hate Food. Alternatively I'd love to send you one. Let me know and I'll pop it in the post :)

**I was very naughty with the camera - minimal photos taken. Was using my eyes without the lens and just couldn't bare to chop it all up in pixels. Selfish, I know. I guess I'll just have to go back to take some piccys for ya'll

xx

What does one say to Bret Easton Ellis?

This is the question I've been wrestling with lately. I've been losing sleep over it - literally, playing out scenarios in my head about my 30 seconds - 1 minute of interaction we'll be having when he signs my book when I attend his book launch in august. I first fell in love with this man's writing during uni and came across The Rules of Attraction; a horribly bleak, depressing read about hollow college students. I then moved onto the cult hit American Psycho, followed by The Informers and then an attempt at Less Than Zero. Needless to say I was a bit Ellis'd out by the time I got to Zero and never got around to finishing it.

To say I felt surprised when I heard he was launching his latest book Imperial Bedrooms at the Oxford Arts Factory in August is an understatement. I was downright shocked and had never felt luckier. Here was (I'm gonna put it out there) one of my favourite authors releasing a new book at my favourite watering hole. Is this some kind of hoax? Apparently not.

I immediately set to reading his debut work, the book I'd put down after an Ellis overload some six years ago now and as soon as I read the first page I remembered how I felt when I first discovered him. I love his darkness, his characters' nonchalance for their actions, hatred and disregard for humanity in general. It's utterly gutteral; they've got nothing to lose. This all sounds very nihilistic I know, and trust me usually I'm quite a gentle soul, but something in this snapshot of pop-culture that is oh-so-relevant still today speaks to me. I've just started reading Imperial Bedrooms and am gobbling it down by the page.

Anyway, this brings me back to my original dilemma - what does one say to Bret Easton Ellis? Should I make him a zine? What do I wear? What do I drink? If I'm this nervous in July, god help me when August hits.

Suggestions other than 'love your work' welcomed.

nail-biting times.
cactus
x

A Coffee and a Yarn

On the weekend I went out for a yarn and a coffee at, funnily enough, A Coffee and a Yarn; a new concept cafe in Newtown. The concept being add some coffee and public space to your crafternoon and get those knitting needles on show. The cafe is open and spacey with little hubs of working bee kids and ladies. Unfortunately I don't knit, but that didn't mean the novelty mushroom needles, walls of wool and patterns went to waste on me.

If there's more than two of you, you may need to swoops for a table, as once people start knitting, they tend to get stuck into it for quite a while and tables are limited. Or you can do as I did and invade a couples personal space by joining their little love nest. (What? They weren't even knitting.)

My crafty kittens made me feel inadequate as they chatted, ate, sipped tea and knitted all at once. Meanwhile I looked around and gulped coffee and marveled at knitted squares and the beginnings of lace-wool scarves.

A lovely, wholesome way to spend an afternoon, and you're also pretty much guaranteed an afternoon with just the girls.

Head to 413 King street Newtown and find out if you're a crafty little minx.

cactus
x