Today I’m celebrating four years of freedom.
Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance - Oscar Wilde
Gucci sunglasses from Vinnies? Check.
Pyjamas from K-Mart? Check.
Havaianas Thongs? Check.
Single mother biorhythm energy level: Chewed up and spat out.
Trashy single mother reporting for duty at the school gate. I’d love to look fancy like all the yummy mummies at my school with their beautiful hair but I really don’t give a rats. Blame my 80s childhood, then my 90s grungey youth. Where I grew up every mother wore beige and navy Country Road separates, so as a result I’m allergic to fashion marketing. I think if women spent less time looking at handbags we’d have more time to change the world. The older I get the more I know that anti wrinkle cream is a useless weapon in our fight for equality. Maybe my look is called old bag trashion. I’m doing motherhood my way. Thank you Frank Sinatra.
On September 14 I’m performing two shows with my youngest daughter, who is hyperactive, smart and very cheeky. The rehearsal process has been ‘interesting,’ with Wednesday adding in bits of script that don’t make sense or are hilarious to her but not to me. I’m thinking our show will be a shambles or very funny (or both). Our show is called Parental Guidance and we’re on at Tap Gallery (upstairs theatre) in Darlinghurst. You can buy tickets at http://2013.sydneyfringe.com/event/comedy/parental-guidance
And an interview I did for the Sydney Fringe Festival blog
One of my friends said,
“You have a morbid fascination with death. You have so many stories of death and people close to you dying.” Actually he said, “You are the angel of death,” but I don’t fear death and I don’t think it’s morbid. I work in hospitals with kids who may die and observing parents coping with their worst fear strengthens my gratitude for my three healthy kids. Life and death walk hand in hand, two sides of the same coin, my fascination with death is a part of living well. And I know I will be old and ready for it when my time comes. I’ve got too much to do in this life to die young.
I love cemeteries, I could walk in them for hours looking at the headstones and wondering how people lived. I’m lucky I live right near one of the most beautiful cemeteries in Sydney. I love old graves. Walking around reading the inscriptions I’m reminded as a mother that only a hundred years ago mothers lived with the ever present thought that they should have lots of children as many little kids under five didn’t survive.
My dad’s been dead for 11 years and I’m certain he’s around me all the time.
Love this post by Sarah Koppelkam
The King died today in 1977. I loved his look, his white jumpsuits, his hair, his sneer, his pelvis, his fetish for deep-fried peanut butter sandwiches and his music. He may well have been my ideal man. His golden voice lives on forever in the drama of his high camp songs. I love you Elvis.