Notes for a song

Category: Theatre

Wanton abandon

I have abandoned you wantonly in favour of flirtations with scriptwriting, thrift store shopping, unrestrained vacationing, and food consumption.

I offer a list of things I enjoyed today. I hope this makes amends for my reckless behaviour.

1. Sitting in a beige pouf

2. Thai green curry fit for a queen – zucchinis and eggplants and bamboo oh my!

3. The new WordPress login page

4. Attempting to navigate Twitter

5. XXYYXX. Not to be confused with Xx. Or xxx.


Silk dancer

I don’t know how she does it,
suspended from two ropes –
she’s dropping down,
she’s pulling herself back up!
Her flapper-esque costume
shows off her strong legs
as they unwind
from the rope.
Her Rapunzel-length plait
hangs at a perfect 90° angle
from the rope.
She hides for a while,
shrouded in the silk
then shows her face again
as she holds herself,
from the rope.
It’s a dance I’ve seen one hundred times before,
but every time it captivates me –
Little Japanese Bailarina,
or Lady in the Moon.


I’m going to Frankston today, I’m excited. I’m almost skipping along to my ipod shuffle as I enter Parliament station. I make my way over to the ticketing booth where the attendant calls me “Sweetie”. I feel a pang for New York. He then informs me on the weekend you don’t need to purchase a zone 2 ticket. He is my new favourite person.

On the train, I set myself up with novel, ipod shuffle, water, notebook and pen all within reach. It’s like I’m going to another world, even though I used to do longer train rides from Croton to Grand Central every day. I try counting the stations until I fall asleep. We pull into Frankston at 11am.

On my way out of the train station I spot two tweens in immaculate Clueless getup, complete with mini backpacks and mary janes. Rats, I think as I see them heading to the Savers. Oh well, they are both much tinier than me.

The Savers seems no better than the ones in the city, but Frankston provides the early riser with an abundance of smaller church thrift stores down little lanes and back alleys.

Unfortunately, all the skinny jeans are all too big for me and the ones that fit are all bootcut, but I do find a pair of lime green capris I figure I can dye later. I find an arts and crafts store that sells iDye (from the Apple domestic products line?). This new-fangled dye can actually be popped right into your washing machine – a bit risky when you have housemates. I pocket some for three times the price of the capris and decide it’s time to head home.

It’s not until halfway through the train ride home – somewhere around Mentone – that I notice the photo of the naked woman on the cover of my novel.

I hope the kindly old ladies sitting across from me don’t think I’m reading porn.

Pass the parcel

For my secret santa this year, I made a pass the parcel game. It’s simple really, homemade, and involves recycling. Which is a good combo when choosing a secret santa gift.
Take an old newspaper. Wrap up some sweet prize in the middle. Put a tiny treat in between the layers.
But there’s a twist – add a challenge written on coloured card. The player can only enjoy their treat once they’ve completed the challenge.
“Convince another player to exchange an item of clothing with you. Make them believe the change is permanent.”
“Sing or hum the chorus to a Beyonce song.”
“Count to ten in a language other than English.”
“Perform a scene of high drama that concludes with you storming out of the room.”
Ideally, players would be slightly lubricated before the game commences.

Sage advice

(from one of my characters)


“You’re young.
God knows you’ve been through a lot in your short years.
Your 20s are the start of your adult life, and it’s normal to feel completely lost.
I spent my 20s in a hateful relationship, hating myself and everyone else who was happy.
I didn’t feel truly secure until my 30s.
Go explore, experiment, get lost, try to find yourself.
Your 20s are the time to do it.”