Smackie Onassis: The Inevitable Future

There were fireworks at the end of our street the other night. We stood out in the road to watch them, Vegatrain, Meattrain, Meattrain's girlfriend who suggested her own codename but it was kind of elaborate and I don't remember it so her name is now Hello Kitty, and myself. Vegatrain and I danced around like idiots. Meattrain and Hello Kitty hugged like normal people. There was this one moment which was pretty amazing. We were all staring up at the fireworks, listening to the song that was playing (Michael Jackson, of course) and not paying attention to each other. Until we all looked around and realised that every single one of us was independently doing the Thriller dance. It was a pretty satisfying moment.

I guess it's kinda cynical that the whole thing felt to me like a scene from a depressing Australian movie where they flash back to 'happier times'. The fireworks, the share-house, the happy relationship moments. If watching movies like Candy has taught me anything, it's all downhill from here. Of course, it could have been more to do with the fact that my glasses were quite dirty and so everything I saw had that frosted edges look that televised flashbacks tend to have. But hey, who knows, right?

It got me thinking - just how is my life likely to take a dramatic downhill turn from this point? I had visions of myself, homeless, wandering the streets, asking passers-by if they could spare a few bucks for some insoles. Following the tradition of a dire future as represented in film and television, I can see future-homeless-me getting some questionable tattoos. I have seen a lot of questionable tattoos in my time so I know what I will be dealing with here. I remember once being in a pub in Newcastle in the middle of the day (the train station was across the road and my friend had missed his train). We somehow began talking to a group of guys who had been in the unfortunate situation of being drunk around tattooing equipment. One guy had a crudely drawn dick and balls on his lower back. Another had the words 'Your Name Here' on his arse. A lifetime of regret for them, but a quiet chuckle for me.

As for the questionable tattoos I would get well, that requires a bit of thought. I do already have a few tattoos, all of which are quite tasteful. The next one I was planning on getting is a few lines from my favourite poem. And I am well aware that this would put me right up in the 'Pretentious Arty Fucks Hall of Fame', but I don't care because it is a beautiful poem that really moved me*. However, if I am going to live up to the reputation of 'crazy homeless lady' I am going to have to get something a bit stranger and altogether more off-putting. I was wondering recently if anyone has ever had other genitals tattooed on their real genitals ie a penis tattooed on the vagina. I was too scared to google it but if it's crazy and off-putting you are going for, I don't think you could really pass that one up. This one also gives you a semi-valid excuse for exposing yourself to strangers, another staple of that particular culture.

So, that's me a few years from now. Crazy, homeless, probably with a menagerie of animals following me wherever I go. Playing a ukulele on the street for spare change. Of course, I would get back on my feet eventually. But how? The most logical answer is that an ad executive hears me singing some kind of insane song parody to myself and hires me to write jingles. I would have my big break with probably either 'O! Valencia!' (an ad for the oranges, to the tune of the Decemberists song) or maybe 'Let's Hear it for the Soy!' (an ad for soy sauce). Oh and if you're wondering, yes I have already written** these jingles so I won't have to rely on my inevitably heroin-addled brain to come up with anything 'clever'. 

And thus, the story ends with me raking in the big bucks in the ad jingle market, selling my story to 'That's Life!' magazine and finally getting my aquarium house.

-Smackie Onassis

*If you are wondering, the poem is 'My Spectre Around Me Night and Day' by William Blake who is for totals my favourite poet.

** "O! Valencia! With your pulp so sweet in my mouth! Valencia! And I swear to the stars, I will eat this whole thing right now...."

"Let's hear it for the soy! Let's give the soy a hand! Maybe it's no vinaigrette, but for your next sushi banquet, whoah, whoah whoah whoah! Let's hear it for the soy!"

An Ode To The Newcastle Regional Library

People are always talking about what they would do if they became really, really wealthy. Houses, holidays and hookers are usually the favourites ('The Three H's'), but there is something a bit different that I have always thought I would do. If I ever got even slightly wealthy, I would make as big a donation to the Newcastle Regional Library as I could afford. I would also like to live in a house where the walls are made of aquariums but that's a whole other kettle of fish, or house of fish as the case may be.

"Why a library?" you might ask, "There are so many worthy causes out there, what makes you think that is the best place for your dollars?"

Here's the thing. The Newcastle Regional Library was one of my favourite places in the entire world when I was growing up. This was mainly because of the music section. Most libraries these days have a cd section of some description, but it is usually limited to Vivaldi and Delta Goodrem. The music section at this library was like nothing I'd ever seen before. It was updated on a monthly basis and contained music I had trouble finding anywhere else. This was before the time of internet torrents, so it really was that amazing.

I am not exaggerating when I say that the cd section at this library changed my life. Borrowing these cds was the first I had heard of music that wasn't just played on the radio. I can remember picking up a little album called 'If You're Feeling Sinister' by a little band by the name of Belle & Sebastian. It blew me away. I didn't know music could be so... good. I went on to feverishly get my hands on everything they had ever recorded. The night I finally ended up seeing them live was just one of the best nights of my life.

From there I picked up Darren Hanlon's 'Little Chills' and my mind was blown again. I remember taking it to school in my little discman. My friends got so mad at me because I spent the better part of a week not talking to them in favour of sitting by myself, listening to it over and over again. Seriously, the things I would do to Darren Hanlon. I can't even go into them without feeling filthy and disrespectful, but let's just say: it would take several days before I would be finished.

Other bands I heard for the first time because I picked up their cd at the Newcastle Regional Library include: Beck, The Pixies, Augie March (years before Moo You Bloody Choir brought them to the mainstream. I'm talking Sunset Studies here. Man, I am going to listen to that right now), The Bees, Bright Eyes, Broken Social Scene, The Fiery Furnaces, Built to Spill, Camera Obscura... the list goes on. Let's just say: all my favourite bands.

The Newcastle Regional Library was the single biggest influence on my musical tastes. It taught me not only that there were excellent bands out there, but because there was such a vast supply of material it taught me how to form my own opinions on music, how to decide what kind of things I liked. Every time I considered moving away from Newcastle, I had to seriously evaluate whether I could move away from the library. It was that good. I honestly don't understand how such an oasis of musical culture could exist. If I didn't still have all those burnt cds, I might think it had all been a mirage.

Of course, I eventually did move away. I can honestly say that the library is probably the thing that I miss most about Newcastle. I mean, there is the internet now, but it's just not the same. Don't get me wrong, I love the internet, but nothing can compare to seeing the shelves upon shelves of such wonderful albums all free for the borrowing.

-Smackie Onassis