Good Ideas and Pig Headed Pigs

I don't even know where to begin on my update. Tojo moved out on Saturday and my new flatmate moved in on Monday. Everything worked out in the end! On Saturday the lovely Mels joined us for a rather messy music night. I'm pretty sure we had a half hour conversation about my long fingers. That was only the tip of the iceberg of shite talk though. As the night went on it got more ridiculous. In fact, it got so ridiculous it became quite profound.

I have so many good ideas that never come to anything I'm thinking of opening up a Museum of Good Ideas. They will be framed and people will walk around nodding their heads, saying "Yes, that is a good idea". Even this idea will be in the Musuem of Good Ideas.

My new flatmate, Elenwe (I chose this from a list of elfin names) is from New Zealand. A little girl asked her if she was from Middle Earth and being a fan of elves she thought this was delightful. Ziggy likes Elenwe very much. He likes her so much he peed on her bed. He just got a bit overexcited and then he was so ashamed of himself he hid under the bed.

Speaking of animals behaving badly. When Tojo moved in he brought with him a fridge. He didn't think my little fridge would accomodate his weekly groceries and, right enough, it wouldn't have been with people landing at the door with hunks of meat. So my old fridge was put in a shed out at Nellyberts. The same shed that the pigs would often ransack because they knew that's where their meal was kept. Bert had stashed the meal somewhere else though and Lily the pig was mighty disappointed when she stroked into the shed for a snack. So disappointed that she destroyed some of Bert's beekeeping equipment, flung a bag of compost all over the place, tipped the piano over and ripped the door of the fridge. Luckily for me the fridge was the one thing Tojo left behind. Things have a way of working out :)

Boboland

I realise what my blog is missing is a little wisdom and prettiness. But what I lack in wisdom and prettiness I make up for with ingenious ideas. There was the hot air balloon buisness, Scabby Birds Escort Agency, and the time I helped Salt Face to come up with a plan to meet Michael Jackson. The latest plan is one I've pondered on before; the Treehouse Horror Movie. The set and props are perfect. Pet cemetery, treehouse, scary attic, dark woods, bees. The plot; several young adults partying when the folks are away. There are a few psychopaths on the loose; crazy chainsaw-wielding priest, his motive - ex boyfriend of main character. There's a man who dresses up in a bee suit, possibly he is actually made entirely of bees. I don't know how I want that one to pan out yet. His motive - revenge for the poor bees.

The main character's parents have a pet cemetery in the lawn. They told her when she was a little girl that her pets had gone to boboland. They lost a lot of pets because the girl's granny was a bit twisted. In one scene the dumb blonde runs upstairs to the attic where granny is rocking on a chair, reaching her bony hand out and telling her "it's time for boboland" (in a scottish accent). I'm lucky that I work with a lot of people so I pretty much have an instant cast and crew. I have the token dumb blonde, token jock, token gay guy, token stoner and Gus and Ziggy will obviously be getting lead roles, playing themselves. I'm thinking a cross between Texas Chainsaw Massacre (gonna have to get a really good editor to make it look like that the treehouse has been hacked down), Blair Witch project (finding roasry beads in the branches and smelling incense), Pet Semetary (rabid zombie dogs chasing people down the back lane into the scary woods) and Candyman. No wait, it will have etches of every single horror movie that was ever written and it will be called Boboland.

Granny's Stories

Really, I should have an anonymous blog so that I can write about all the different flatmate problems I've had in the past two years. I remember when Gus was telling me that he was going to move out and I said "But Gus, you're my best flatmate yet!" and he laughed and said "F**k's sake Hannah that doesn't say much about me".

Out at granny Nelly's yesterday, I was listening to the stories she was telling the girls and it reminded me of when I was that little girl, sitting on my mum's knee, and hearing all her stories that she made up in her head but were always inspired by something that was currently happening. I think those were the times when I really knew she loved me. And I could see by the look on the girl's faces, in awe, and captivated by their granny's words, that they felt very loved too.

I feel a little bit like I'm in limbo again. It's alright though. Nearly feels like a second home I'm so used to it. I can't even be sure of who I'm going to be living with each month but I'm taking the good out of that situation as well. The more experiences I have of different people the more I learn about myself, and, people in general.

Ziggy hardly gets a mention these days. I guess that's cause he's so grown up and mature (ha!). He's doing pretty good. Licking his non-existent balls at the minute. I went for coffee with a friend and we sat outside on the pedestrianised street. I let Ziggy have a bit of freedom and he tootled up and down the street making friends with everyone. The Badtoads particularly liked him and would have happily taken him home.

The only other news is that I got my work handed in, did my exam and am now a free woman for a few months and quite relieved to not have to be chatting about our locus of evaluation and organismic self. Though I did get in touch with my organismic (yep, organismic, not orgasmic!) self a few nights ago when I watched Hole Unplugged. Courtney Love was my idol when I was a teenager and I ended up becoming embarassed by her behaviour as I got older but watching the Unplugged set reminded me that she was a very cool, strong, passionate and talented woman and I could have done a whole lot worse for a role model.

Talkin' About A Revolution

Today, I reckoned, seemed like as good a day as any to start a revolution. I proposed this idea to a work colleague. He said there was no point, a revolution would never happen. I told him this was precisely the reason why a revolution would never happen. because noone believes it can happen. Another colleague was complaining of money problems. I told her we were long overdue a revolution. "Yes, but it will never happen in our lifetime", she replied. Again, I told her that the revolution would never happen because people are so beat down (just the way they want us to be) that nobody has faith in the "power of the people". It is a perfect time for a revolution with the politically fractious climate we're living in.

I spread further word of the revolution. Some were optimistic, like me. Some people didn't know what a revolution was. I explained, "You know, that thing that people are always singing about - Tracy Chapman, The Beatles, 4 Non Blondes. Che Guevara started one." This lead to a discussion about cuban cigars. I pointedout that smoking cigars did not constitute a revolution. It was not that simple. So how do you start a revolution? Write a song about starting one? Or write a song about talking about songs about a revolution? And then do we just run, and keep on running until we've established that, yes, a revolution has been started?