Simon is a writer. He works in the important real world as a writer and he rides a bike and likes to talk about that, and he also plays the saxophone. As you can see, Simon has many skills.
Simon has recently developed a new skill, which is the capturing of a human’s spiritual essence by the physical rendering of their face and body through strokes of charcoal onto parchment, also known as ‘drawing’.
Recently Simon was commissioned to draw his old childhood friend Jess and here is the result:
From the dog-themed setting to the dog-themed shoes, to the mismatching clothes, to the hint of a mustard coloured jumper, to the drama masks, to the asymmetrical hair, to my best pair of nunchuks: Simon has got it going on.
He also made us a back-up poster for Sprout just in case we need to punch people in the face with amazingness:
You can check out the rest of Simon’s work at his facebook page, here. My highlights are Michael Jackson, Marilyn Monroe and the famous Britney/Madonna pash.
Would Jess Like Soul Drawing? Big time.
I understand why some people want to be a regular at a café. Every morning, in you plop, like clockwork, and you sit at your nice dimly lit table – just enough light to keep reading Jane Eyre even though for the first 150 pages, that bitch is a draaaag, but not too much for the spunky barista to see the bags under your eyes and those bobby pins that you’ve had stuck in the same piece of hair for over a week, as he serves you your Turkish bread toast.
And here is the first problem with being a regular at a café.
I cannot understand the idea of ‘I want to go to this place everyday cos I just love the way they make vegemite Turkish toast’. Vegemite Turkish toast is the easiest thing in the world to make. And Turkish toast plus butter? Taste party in your mouth, with everyone who’s an amazing party animal: invited.
And this is the paradox. Most ‘regulars’ at cafes order really normal daily breakfast foods. A simple muesli, a simple toast. Things you really can make at home and save $9. And therefore in my head, there is only one reason to be a regular at a breakfast café –
You are in love with the barista.
There’s no other justification for coming in every day. There’s no other reason to get out of bed 30 minutes earlier than you have to. There’s no other reason to pretend you read the Financial Review over breakfast, rather than laughing at the conservative shit Georgie says on ‘Girls on the Grill’ on the Today show.
8am is too early to be hot and mysterious, and everyone knows baristas are usually such premium property that the odds are they’re not interested in you and you’re wasting your $9 when you could PIGGY BANK that shit for a trip to Thailand over Christmas or maybe more gourmet dinners “with the girls”. I’m sorry I had to say that, I know it was harsh, but IT IS WHAT IT IS, these stereotypes exist for a reason, it doesn’t mean life is fair, AND THE BARISTA IS NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU BACK, HE IS ONLY DOING HIS JOB AND TRYING NOT TO BURN YOUR MILK so really you should just save your $9 and maybe your pride too and Try. Again. Later.
Here’s my advice, because you asked for it or something. Stay at home, make your own buttery toast, and save your café-flirting for at least lunchtime – when you can be sure your clothes aren’t inside out, you don’t have crusty bits of sleep in your eyes, and there’s a much more accessible strain of barista on duty.
I’ve been mulling over the concept of ‘earnestness’ a lot lately. I’ve been thinking that this bitch deserves an image overhaul, an embracing of just how GREAT (or important, hah) it is to be earnest.
Earnestness is something That Jess Likes.
Take the Sydney Opera House’s new Ship Song Project. There is nothing cool, dark or mysterious about it. It is a bunch of passionate professionals saying “WE LOVE THE OPERA HOUSE A WHOLE LOT” and they are sharing their talents in order to put that idea into the world (and I guess to sell tickets to more shows, but Playwright-Hat Jess views this as acceptable). And as much as Daniel Johns looks like an puffy over-serious douche and Katie Noonan has nowhere near enough face-time, the sentiment is there. A bunch of talented people care about something special.
And to further drill home this idea, today I finally watched the movie Bright Star, which was earnest in a whole lot of different ways. There’s the heartbreakingly beautiful scene of optimism and hope where Keats and Fanny plan their imaginary future in the face of insurmountable barriers, and it is so cruel, yet earnest. There is the flinch-worthy scene where the two lovers spout a poem to each other, taking turns to simper out the lines, and it is cheesy, yet earnest. Then at the end of the movie, a disembodied voice reads out ‘Ode to a Nightingale’ over the credits, and it is an allowable conceit of “I LOVE KEATS”-style passion on behalf of the filmmaker, and yes, it is earnest.
Earnestness is not being afraid of feeling, creating and sharing. It is trusting enough in whatever you are making to present it to the wider world. It is tapping into the great undercurrent of hope and optimism that drives us as human beings: for success, for beauty, for love, and for the creation of new things, to continue growing after we are gone.
Living, in the face of inevitable death, is essentially an act of optimism. And it therefore makes sense to live with joy, with beauty, and to season all that with a big ole dollop of earnestness.
So come on, Beloved Readers, and let’s embrace earnestness. In the work we create, the choices we make, and the paths we take. Earnestness is not being scared to cry in public. Earnestness is frolicking through meadows that are not necessarily your own meadows but are super lush and green and so fuck it. Earnestness is even writing a comedy blog that veers into Seriousville because it is important enough to write it.
Earnestness is one more thing too. It is much more fun than being cool.
Dance music doesn’t beat around the bush. Dance music doesn’t shirk any issue cos it’s embarrassing or difficult to express. Dance music is all, “this is how I feel bitches, and deal with it or get outta my face.”
I’ve been listening to a lot of Pitbull lately (recommended) and I think I’ve summarised his approach to songwriting for you.
A typical Pitbull song goes like this –
STAY IN THIS CLUB
THERE IS A GREAT BEAT IN THIS CLUB
PEOPLE FIND YOU SEXY IN THIS CLUB
HOW AWESOME IS BEING IN THIS CLUB
DRINK SOME MORE VODKA SODA RIGHT NOW
I NEVER WANT TO LEAVE THIS CLUB
EVERYTHING GOOD ABOUT THE WORLD IS IN THIS CLUB
THAT DUDE OR LADY IS SUPER HOT IN THIS CLUB
POUR THE VODKA DOWN MY THROAT BITCHES
POUR IT I SAID POUR IT I SAID POUR IT
I AM SO HAPPY I COULD DIE
And you know, sometimes when you’re all Feisted out, or Bat for Lashes just ain’t cutting the mustard – well, you know what you’ve gotta do.
I mean…look. No one likes prostituting themselves for their art, standing in front of their ‘new and sensitive inner turmoil’ red door, with a jar full of dreams/urine to throw at anyone who tries to undermine their craft/take a photo of them in a feather boa.
BUT sometimes a bit of pimping yo good self is important, just to make sure the right sort of people hear about what you’re working on, the ones who are out there in the world LOOKING for a philanthropic project to sink their polished pearlers into and to create opportunities for independent Australian theatremakers. And so that’s what this pimping is about.
We are trying to raise any funds possible for my first independent show in Sydney and if you fancy donating a bit of money, or you fancy passing it onto your friends/associates/workmates/enemies with bucks to spare, I would be extremely grateful.
The link will tell you everything you need to know about the play and the costs of putting on an independent production. We have cool ‘thank yous’ for donors and yknow what, I think I’ll let that link speak for itself.
Thanks for any publicity you can give our little child, Sprout.
Yours in pimping,
P.S. HERE IS THAT LINK AGAIN.