A couple of weeks ago, I met a guy online.  I know, I’ve been there before and got my heart broken, then stomped on by size 13, 12-hole Docs.  But since I don’t go out drinking and picking people up, and there seems to be nowhere else to meet people, online is the easiest option. 

But this just feels different to before, and I really believe this could work.  He’s sweet, lovely to look at with enormous brown eyes, and he evokes this stupid grin that no matter what I do I can’t seem to wipe off my face.  We spend a lot of time laughing, chatting and finding similar tastes with so many things that I have to believe that this could turn out to be something serious.  I’ve got no choice, it feels almost fated.  Honestly.

We met in person for the first time last weekend, and needless to say I was nervous as all hell.  But we immediately hit it off.  No uncomfortable silences, no awkward moments at all.  The waitress had to come back twice to take our order because we were chatting too much to conentrate on the menu.  A 12:30 lunch date was still going at 19:30, and finally finished about 2am.  Then continued on Sunday when we lazed about mine watching and bagging out the olympics closing ceremony, and then went to see Hellboy 2 (really cool film, btw, Guillermo del Toro is a fantastical genius).  On Monday we had a wonderful day walking around London chatting and giggling like idiots.  I really like this guy.  I mean, I really like this guy.  And even better, he seems to feel the same way!  :)))

You know how it is when you just click with someone?  When everything seems easy and confortable?  When there’s enormous respect, huge attraction, and you feel that giddiness in your chest?  That’s how I’ve been all week.  I haven’t been able to wipe the smile off my face or stop the butterflies in my chest.  I seem to spend a ridiculous amout of time thinking about him.  And it’s been so long since I felt like this that I have to admit to being a little terrified.  There are moments (usually when he hasn’t been next to me) when I’ve felt utter panic and ‘what the hell am I doing?’. It all seems ridiculously fast, like being on the proverbial roller-coaster.  But something about it just feels right, and good, and all those wonderful things.  Honestly, it’s just like a 50’s romantic movie!  All of which makes me a little more suspicious – like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

But we’re seeing each other again tonight, and I truthfully can’t wait.  I want to see where this goes.  I want to give it every chance – cause I haven’t been this happy in so long that I bloody well deserve it! 

So, just for a bit until I figure out what this is, don’t lob questions at me, don’t tell me to slow the hell down.  Just let me enjoy my secret guy for a bit longer…  And I really am enjoying myself, and whatever the hell this is.

It’s fantastic and wonderful and I’m immensely happy.  Hope you are too.

xx

yep – two years down.. Adrift is two years old!  Bloody hell, what an adventure!  And it’s just getting better and better…

And I almost missed it! :)

Many thanks to my readers – and many thanks to everyone I’ve met and spent time with in the last two years, the people I’ve reconnected with, the new people I’m yet to meet.  You make it all worthwhile, and bloody hilarious at times too!

cheers everyone – big love to you all

xxx

The Umbilical Brothers are an duo from Aussie, who combine mime and sound effects with fantastic results.  They’ve been regulars on Aussie tele for a long while, and in honor of the Edinburgh Festival (which is currently going on), which incidentally was the last time I saw them (BRILLIANT! LMAO!)…

Gentlepersons, I give you…

THE UMBILICAL BROTHERS!

I’ve just found out that the Umbies will be in NZ in Sept and coing to London in Oct – WHOOHOO!  Guess where I’m gonna be?! :)

xx

This caught my attention today. I’m having a retro day and listening to The Travelling Wilburys, and I happened to look at the sleeve notes..

The Wilburys are: Lucky Wilbury, Otis Wilbury, Charlie T. Wilbury, Lefty Wilbury, Nelson Wilbury – although we may know them better as Bob Dylan, Jeff Lynne (ELO), Tom Petty, Roy Orbison and George Harrison.  The album ‘Volume 1′ is brilliant, and should be in everyone’s collection.  (Arguments accepted, but be prepared to be shot down :)

But the sleeve liner notes which caught my eye are as follows:

“The original Wilburys were a stationary people who, realising that their civilisation could not stand still forever, began to go for short walks – not the ‘travelling’ as we know it, but certainly as far as the corner and back. They must have taken to motion, in much the same way as penguins were at that time taking to ledges, for the next time we hear of they they were going out for the day (often taking lunch or a picnic). Later – we don’t yet know how much later – some intrepid Wilburys began to go away for the weekend, leaving late Friday and coming back Sunday. It was they who evolved simple rhythmic forms to describe their adventures.

A remarkable sophisticated musical culture developed, considering there were no managers or agents, and the further the Wilburys travelled the more adventurous their music became, and the more it was revered by the elders of the tribe who believed it had the power to stave off madness, turn brunettes into blondes and increase the size of their ears.

As the Wilburys began to go further and further in their search for musical inspiration they found themselves the object of interest among many less developed species – nightclub owners, tour operators and recording executives. To the Wilburys, whoc had only just learnt to cope with wives, roadies and drummers, it was a blow from which many of them never recovered.

A tiny handful survived – the last of The Travelling Wilburys – and the songs gathered here represent the popular laments, the epic and heroic tales which characterise the apotheosis of the elusive Wilbury sound. The message of the music travels, as indeed they travelled, and as I myself must now travel for further treatment. Good listening, good night and let thy Wilbury be done…”

Sleeve Note © Hugh Jampton, E.F. Norti-Bitz Reader in Applied Jacket, University of Krakatoa (East of Java)

Love the bit about the penguins ;)  Remember, Tweeter and the Monkey Man will come looking for you if you refute any of the above! ;)

xx

Anyone who’s been out of touch with the world for the last few days, I have news.  The Olympics have started.

Yep, that ritual athletic testing that started in an ancient foreign land as a way of challenging soldiers has returned once again.  (Which, by the way, means that I’ve been away over 8 years.  I arrived in the UK before Sydney 2000. Egads!)  The best of the world have gathered in Bejing for two weeks of testing before their peers and the world.

Talk about your stage-fright – estimated 4 billion people watching the opening ceremony?  Bloody Hell!  But from what I could see there was only one stuff up – and I imagine some poor little Chinese guy getting a slap around the ear for letting the torch-bearing air-runner guy catch up with the unravelling scroll.

All the athletes look lean & hungry.  That’s how they’re supposed to look, right? Lean & hungry?  Are we not feeding these people regularly?  They all look ready to defend their country and themselves from repeated embarrassment of failing dismally.  If there’s one thing I’ve learnt over my 30something years on the earth, there’s always someone better than you.  Sorry..  Maybe I’m feeling a little too reflective today.

But along with the lean & hungry come the joys of a fiercely patriotic crowd, and billions of televiewers everywhere, screaming and shouting, clapping, laughing, crying along with their team.  The Olympics is the only time people can be most vehemently patriotic with no fear of recrimination, verbal abuse or attack.  It is expected at the Olympics, encouraged.  Over two hundred countries coming together to wage mini battles with each other.

Question:  Have the Olympics become our pseudo world war?  Instead of taking out your emeny with bullets and bombs, you take them out with skill and expertise, with a fine throw or blistering speed.  You take them out honestly and directly, with no cheating or sly actions, no backstabbing or sabotage.  You do it directly in front of them, to their face, and you wait for the words ‘bad sport’ to start fizzing about between their ears, at which point they’ll come and congratulate you on a good match/race/battle.

And I even understand why it’s being held in China, despite their air quality and human rights record, despite their environmental and foreign policy.  It’s being held there because the IOC reached a point where it had to say yes for to be seen as being influenced by politics.  See, China is the most populated country in earth, they send ridiculous amounts of althletes to each and every games, they do very well in each and every games, and they haven’t hosted in over 100 years.  The IOC proclaims itself a non-political animal, and under that guise had reached a point where they could no longer refuse China’s application to host.  They had no choice.  To do otherwise was to rebuke China, which no-one seems willing to do.  I mean, geez, Moscow hosted in the middle of the cold war.  Germany hosted, Hitler opened their games.  The IOC had to do it to stay apolitical.  I’ll stop there, I don’t want this post to be an anti-China rant.

I realise from the above that it may seem I sneer at the Olympics.  But I don’t.  Honestly.  I’ve got nothing but admiration for the athletes who can devote themselves so completely to their sport.  I don’t think I could do it.  And I’ve nothing but admiration for the medalists themselves.  To be the acknowledged best in the world at anything must be a fantastic feeing and worth every second of that seemingly endless training.

And, of course, there’s the fact that I’m Australian and we love and respect sportsmen and women.  We’re a sporting nation.  Comes with the sunshine and being able to go outside.  The Australian press are whipping up a patriotic frenzy, I find myself trying to program my tele-watching to times when there’ll be coverage of Aussies (and I understand totally that the UK coverage is all about the UK team, I just wish they’d interview a winner every now and again!  Oh, but they did interview that Zimbabwe swimmer with the american accent, thought I’m not sure why..)

I find myself digging my wee aussie flag out of the box and drapiing it proudly around the house.  I find myself suddenly shouting “Go Aussie!” at the screen, freaking out cat and flatmate.  But I can’t help it.  And gorram it, I shouldn’t have to!

So GO AUSSIE!  Go, you good things!  Enjoy yourselves and bring us back some neckwear, huh?

Oh, and..  ahem..  good luck to everyone else too. :)

xx