24 March 2011

Coffee with Alyosha

I dragged my brother shopping today, he's good in that way. He's not good at finding things in BigW.
- ah Varia, where do they keep their office paper?
- turn your head to the right, yep. the shelf right next to you.

That's ok. I asked who Ke$ha was in the supermarket checkout after spotting her on the cover of a magazine. Alyosha obliged with the chorus of one of her songs. The lady in front of us, with grizzled grey hair, a raincoat that looked lived in and her face a bit skint on teeth, turned around and started singing also. 

a little porcelain fox I bought for my daughter, from a junk shop in Clunes

We had coffee at Gloria Jeans. This is suburbia after all. He asked why I hadn't updated my blog in a while and told me which stories he liked. I told him to start his own blog about music. So Alyosha, if you are reading, start blogging. I'll read your stuff.

And on a completely different tangent but sort of related to the picture...
My face will grace a porcelain sculpture of a toddler "Miss Congeniality". I had to wear really insane make up with big falsie eyelashes - it's a send up of those Toddlers and Tiaras pageants, and as the artist, Robyn Hosking said, "the adultification of children."

08 March 2011

Reading Tsvetaeva

Let us wait by the river that
rinses the coloured beads of street-lights:

from You throw your head back, 1916, Marina Tsvetaeva

INSOMNIA: Varia on reading Tsvetaeva

We scratch at the snow
that has closed our eyes
What did I know about peasants
carrying knives in their boots or of the earth
stamped red?
Those that lay trampled, their mouths
filled with gadflies when summer came finally.
The snow melted from emptied eyes,
water ran down whitened bone too late for the eyes
to see what had been done.

And still, the Kremlin is improbably coloured
and at night in summer, the Moscow River runs
grey and still
holding our reflections coolly,
for a time.