Monday, May 31, 2010


This is he.

He inspired this blog about my first love (and I would like to think his first love).

It all started in Winter 2003, we were in Year nine and around 14 years old.

I would spend my nights on MSN talking to him.

He would spend his nights on MSN talking to me.

it was love.

I went to Paddys markets numerous times with him, as you do when you are a little fourteen year old. He stole black nail polish for me once. We were the Sid and Nancy of our time.

Although he likes to think we were The Big and Carrie of our time. (haha)

He was my first kiss. It tasted like pineapples because we were both drinking pineapple juice. It was on the couch.

Then we made out for the second time on the rocks at the Haven.

He played bass, i would watch with eyes open in wonderment.

It was all over as quickly as it had begun.

However, all the best things in this particular relationship came after.

Like when I recieved a letter from Robbie with a CD in which he had penned and sung a song for me (which I still play over and over again especially for Madeline. I think it is one of her favourites)

I still have the letter on my bedside table.

Now he lives in Canberra, making him the only reason why i would ever go to Canberra. Yes that does mean he is better than porn and fireworks and even Julia Gillard.

I love Robbie Sale.

He has instilled in me a fondness for musicians (especially bassists) that I dont think will ever die, made me feel intelligent by acknowledging that shetland ponies are hilarious, he is the person I miss all the time even when we havent seen each other for years. I know I can always pick up where I left off with him.

The days of Phobiac at fucking North Bexley (the hardest station to get to ever) where I actually head banged too hard and my neck was out for days. I wore my red shoes every time I saw the band play.

Even my friends are astounded to hear me sigh on a sunday afternoon "god i miss robbie sale", to which their response is "you guys still talk?"

Yes we do, I think we might always talk.

We are Johnny Cash and June Carter

Bruce Springsteen and Patti Scialfa

Maynard James Keenan and Tori Amos

Here is a spiel he just wrote about me:

In recent years, social scientists have been enquiring after the health of Jess Holton. Proponents of "retreat of Jess" theses, in particular, have sought to forge a link between the growing prominence of cheap flights to queensland and a supposed deterioration in the authority of Jess Holton over the men of NSW

"I know ill see you again, whether far or soon, but I need you to know, that I care

& I miss you."

Sunday, May 30, 2010


For some reason I have an strong attraction to all hip hop songs from any generation and seem to know the words and the times when the token girl goes

"ooooohhh yeeeaahhhh"

better than I know how to spell my own name.

Dre has to be my ultimate. I want to be him but I also want to be with him. Multidimensional.

Ive been listening to butt loads of rap music of late and watching Up in Smoke so much im pretty sure I have hair like Xzibit now.

But I have decided to answer the rap game's age old 21 questions provided from 50 cent. No one has tried this yet. Its not one of those reply youtube videos that spouted the parramatta fave tunes of "Fuck you (I dont want you back)" by EAMON spurring on the reply by someone i think her name was frankee with lines like

"Fuck all those nights I moaned real loud

Fuck it, I faked it, aren't you proud

Fuck all those nights you thought you broke my back

Well guess what yo, your sex was wack"

it is a more empowering tune since I am woman(!)

but here they are, and i suggest you consider your own answers to fiddys 21 questions:

1. would you love me if i was down and out?

it depends what you mean by down fiddy, down with the homies? down with the kids? I think i would though, especially if you were out. at lilikoi.

2. if i fell off tomoro would you still love me?

Fell off the rap charts? these questions need questions to be clear. if you fell off a ledge and everyone saw i would laugh but then I would love you.

3.if i didnt smell so good would you still hug me?

why you aint smelling so good? you got the money.

4. if i got locked up and sentenced to a quarter century could i count on you to be there to support me mentally?

well im no mercedes corby, but i think i could just as long as i can come for one of those trailer visits like in the film clip.

5. If I went back to a hoopty from a Benz, would you poof and disappear like some of my friends?

I dont care about cars, but a benz is pretty good, i dont know what a hoopty is but im sure id still love you 50. but i dont poof. i just dont.

6. if i was hit and i was hurt would you be by my side?

of course i would fiddy. but id also be asking who the fuck can hit and hurt 50 cent. havent you been hit with a few shells now you walk with a limp?

7.if it was time to put in work would you be down to ride?

I have uni mondays and tuesdays...soooo wednesday to friday is good for me.

8. If I ain't rap 'cause I flipped burgers at Burger King would you be ashamed to tell your friends you feelin' me?

Never. Burger king is a legitimate source of income. However I would be wondering why you are calling it Burger King, dont we only have Hungry Jacks in NSW? Im not living in Adelaide.

9. And in bed if I use my tongue would you like that?

Use your tongue to tie a cherry stem in a knot? thats pretty impressive, do you lick down your sheets coz you cant afford the laundromat due to the Burger King wage?

10. if i wrote you a love letter would you write back?

Yeah babe, add me on Facebook.

11. now would you leave me if your father found out i was thuggin?

My dad would probably recommend a decent tax advisor so you can put all your thug money in a trust for when you retire.

12. Do you believe me when I tell you, youre the one Im loving?

Only if your rapping it.

13. are you mad coz im asking you 21 questions?

Sort of, im kind of late for class now.

14. are you my soulmate?

I am fiddy. we ride we ride its til the day that we die.

15. do you trust me enough to tell me your dreams?

I trust athena the Womans Day astrologer enough at 4am while drunk and in need of some stars guidance.

16. if i was down would you say things to make me smile?

i love you like a fat kid loves cake you know my style i say anything to make you smile.

17. if i was with some other chick and someone happened to see, and when you asked me about it i said it wasnt me, would you believe me or not believe me?

Fiddy you a playa. I would walk right out on you.

18. or up and leave me?

SEE ABOVE deep is our bond that thats all it takes for you to be gone?

its pretty deep, especially when you sang for me on my birthday. and when you made that amazing movie about your life. Fiddy I do love you.

20. Could you love me in a Bentley?

Definetly. Id do it outside St. Joeys High school if you want.

21.Could you love me on a bus?

That is highly unsanitary and Im sort of wondering what the fare would be like if we requested it. But it would make the stretch from Terrigal to Erina Fair a hell of a lot more interesting.


Tuesday, May 25, 2010


[ this is a post I just found while going through my editing suite on blogspot. I laughed at it, and wondered why I didnt end up publishing it. so here it is.

what do you do when 90% of your friends are no longer single?

do you become the 7th wheel?

do you become a massive slut?

do you latch onto bridie and go to the beery together, and then cry all the way home?

do you pour yourself a stiff drink? a scotch no less?

I think tonight Im going to hang out with my boy (space) friends who can make me forget about anything deeper than a bong

Monday, May 24, 2010


I wonder if in order to truly see the soul in someone's eyes, they first have to let you.

I know some people in my life who I have known for a while and yet I can honestly say I have never seen them be vulnerable.

Is this a bad thing?

Maybe because i think it hinders the process in which you can truly become close to them.

I sometimes long for those vulnerable moments in life even though many are awkward and leave you feeling empty.

For example:

That look that you can see when someone looks at you and you know what they are thinking.
The look that flashes across a person's face when they know they love you.
And the realisation that that look has disappeared.


crying in class.
tripping over in front of a babe (so dolly doctor)
spewing into a frisbee

The "weak" moments in life are usually the most memorable I believe.

It is hard to maintain a facade of toughness and "everything is fine", especially around those who are close to you, when all you and they deserve is to see you be vulnerable.

It is usually in these moments you can realise a reason why you are alive and have a heart that can break, because that is what life is all about.
That being, a discovery of who people really are and how they react.

I would love to have a vulnerable moment;
a pause before a kiss in which you decide if it is right.
a spoon in which it is so enjoyed that big spoon cant help but smush their face into little spoon's hair.


Maybe it was the weekend that has just passed which is making me all piny and in need of a cuddle.
Nippy weather can do that to you and you dont even realise it.

Ill tell you something though, even if I did have a man to come over in the late hours of a June night, why are winter pyjamas so disgusting?

It would be impossible to get your rocks off anyway because your there in your Supre fluro pink trackies and oversized old man sloppy joe, possibly with a hand knitted pair of slipper/sock or slocks as I just called them just now sitting in a foetal position in front of a heater!

The poor guy would come over and see you there with a green tea and walk straight back out the door again i would like to think.

How did I go from "love" to "winter boning", ill never know.

But think about it, Im talking to girls here now I think because none of the boys I know seem to give a flying fuck about what they wear to bed. Most wear their birthday suit, which is why I am scared to knock on closed doors in their house.

Summer PJ's are so much more..."hey baby, oh what these? No I sleep in them, I swear."
you know...
hottie shortie shorts
hottie singlets
hottie slippers
maybe even hottie undies and a big t shirt.

And yeah, I know we are technically in Autumn. But I dont believe in Autumn mainly for the fact that this fucking season spread out a years supply of Don Burke's mulch in my Redfern backyard last year and still wasnt entirely cleared up in time for my 21st in SEPTEMBER.

So to me, Autumn is bullshit.

Entirely off topic.

Anyway, In these incoherent ramblings of a slowly insane, trackie dack clad boy cut clown that I am, all Im saying is.....

Id like to see deeper into some of the people I know
wearing fluro PJs two sizes too big
spewing into a frisbee.

never know, this could be the weekend for it!

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


I think Im going to marry him one day.

If I finally get down on one knee and deliver my speech I bet he will laugh and say "nup."

This is the kind of "bloke" you can hear sniffing in the hall way. He is pretty funny, especially last weekend when he was entertaining Jess Moss and I at dinner, but also taunting me telling me that one day I WILL be one of the over 40s who were jiving to some Diesel tune in the middle of Aromas.

Then he did (something) and I saw him decline like the slope of the skillion. He told me he had a tummy ache and went home.

The night wasnt the same.

Once before he was sweating bullets and I wiped it off his brow and someone yelled out "ewww!"

so i wiped it on them.

I didnt think it was that bad!

He has a tracksuit set that makes him look like Alphonse Gangitano.

Ive only seen him not-stoned once.

He taught me how to play Buzz and laughed in my face when I lost.

He is obsessed with one day going to Fraser.

He also enjoys watching Fraggle Rock at 4am.

He is the NO#1 fan of this blog. I actually had to sign an autograph for him once.

Also the NO#1 fan of Bellyfish.

But my favourite time to see Burris or Boris is when he comes home from work with techno blaring through the speakers in a three piece suit, usually grey pin stripe with a lavender shirt, and everytime I tell him

"Geez Burris you look schmick!"

He even kept me company through messages when I was stuck on the F3.

Pretty stand up lad, and Ive only known him for about 2 months.


I hate people who make observations and then tell you them when you didnt even ask in the first place.

If you have any idea about who I am, you will know that
I dont like people telling me how I am.

I dont tell people how they are, I just try and accept them as they are and fucking get on with life.
I certainly dont reiterate my point once it has been dismissed.

It must be fucking lonely on that pedestal, is all Im saying.

It is an interesting trait that some humans have, that being, the ability to dissect someone else's personality,
pick out faults
and then drill them into the person from every concievable angle.

Im not saying I am exempt from judging other people on a superficial level, but I dont take enjoyment from sitting down and thinking about how another person is more fucked up than I am.

We are all fucked up.

No one is perfect, and this reminds me of year eight when Madeline and I were on the bus talking about the numerous family domestics we managed to knock out of the way before the bus even arrived.
This was met by an eavesdropper who chimed in with:
"My parents never fight."

making us feel like absolute derros, as if the vegemite stains around our mouth and ill fitting st. josephs summer uniforms didnt make us already look so.

It just made me so deeply angry this week, all week, which is probably a flaw of mine.
As in, I take things to heart and let them get to me for an extended period of time.
That is definetly a fault of mine.

But you know what, I can recognise my faults and try and improve on them. But when something is brought up that is entirely untrue and hurtful and fucking ridiculous in order to fuck with me and my friends.

Then thats when I take a leap off my pedestal,
take my earrings off
and get fucking angry.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010


the concept of a dud root is so funny to me.
Im sure we have all experienced one.


like, you just gave up your time for this person to invade your body, you probably dont even like them, but hey, you were drunk or bored or a nymphomaniac.

My friend, lets call him, Yusef Islam, was telling me about this dud root he experienced once. The story went a bit like this:

"Yeah, she was such a well known slut, but SUCH a shit sexer. I couldnt believe it. I mean I wouldve cared more if I wasnt so fucked up at the time hahaha."

But its interesting that a girl can be a dud root. Boys can be, very easily I believe. They have alot of elements working against them. I wont go and make a list, but Im sure you can come up with some if you tried.

But a girl?

I understand the fundamental elements of it all. Like, if shes a faker. Or if shes a starfish. But is that it?

Ive heard some funny stories that Id like to share, when asking that question, and recieving a range of responses:

" He seriously couldnt do it. He had too much coke and it just wasnt happening, but I made him finish anyway."

"We were way too drunk and she just had no idea what she was working with."

"He just laid there..."

"He was so nervous, he kept shaking."

"He kept asking me if I was alright, and if everything was ok."

"Lets just say his nickname should be 'Old Mate 2 Seconds'"

"He was like spaghetti...."

"It was seriously like out of that movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall, she was like 'Ugh Ugh Ugh I just came'"

This is a rather revealing post!

Its one of those things I guess. If you ever get to that stage, no one is going to tell you the truth for fear of hurting the feelings.

But I think it should be voiced more often. I know Cleo and Cosmo tell you "gently tell him what you want."

But most men have egos that are more delicate than your grandmother's china from 1935 and that could result in a spray of frustration, or even worse.....silent treatment.

But then again, you do have your exceptions to the rule.

All im saying is that the concept of a dud root is pretty funny.

A real insult
A fleeting claim
A fear of many
A perfect comeback.

"Dud root says what?"


Monday, May 10, 2010


I just want to reflect on something that has been bothering me for a while now. And please dont take me rattling off on this subject today as thinking I am above it or dont do it. I do.

I'm a hypocrite.

This is me as a pre schooler. Yeah i know, ive always looked a bit older than my years. But look at me, Im smiling obliviously with a self- fashioned easter hat on. But Im smiling because Im sure whoever on the opposite side of the lens told me to. Innocent enough.

Fast forward to 16 years of age. The Myspace generation is alive and well, and i guess I thought writing shit on my hand to express not only my love for ink poisoning but also Incubus themed lyrics was pretty "rad".


This photo probably isnt a good example considering the state I was in at the time, but it will all tie together to highlight a point.

Anyone ever feel as though they are told to act a certain way?

Even if everything in their being is saying no no no no?

I have just noticed that there is a trend that has formed within documenting images of either yourself or whoever you choose deserves to be on your memory card.

Back in pre school days it was your mum telling you to "say cheese!", even if all you wanted to do was eat the rest of your easter eggs and wouldnt give a shit if the camera caught you doing so.

High School it was "Tom" letting you know which angle to hold to camera at while you clicked the button in order to look about ten times older, sexier, sluttier and cooler to your 123556 friends. That Myspace age is going to haunt me i think. But there is no one out there who isnt guilty of a little self-documentation, at least when they were younger and more impressionable. was the I.D. of Erina Friday Nights, man.

And then now.....

Is it a case of magazines, models, television and blogs (ha!) being so in our face, being consumed so freely and influencing the still pretty young generations of these pasts?

That there is a case of no smiles, head down, hair in face....maybe even pretending you look like a cat with your hands as ears coz some emaciated prawn did it in the July 2008 issue of Russh?

Im not saying I havent done it.

I have. And im a little ashamed.

But as a sheep, I dont want to be the only one in the photo GRINNING like a maniac while everyone else being snapped is staring at the ground like it might open up and Caleb Followill will come thrusting out, half naked but still wearing a handmade necklace.

I just viewed a series of photos from somewhere that will remain nameless, but they kind of made me cringe.

Those chicks who have perfected the "I have been wearing this make up all night and into tomorrow morning" look, even though they just got to the party about fifteen minutes ago.

We're talking:

hair in the face

running down stairs

kicking walls

kissing other girls

hands in face

looking up but with the expression that would make bicentennial man look animated.

but the boys can sometimes be worse:

eyes bugged out like "dont fuck with me, coz ill pat your dog really hard" look.


Not that i have a personal vendetta against these types. As ive said, I am guilty of employing one or all of the aforementioned characteristics, but im kind of getting over it.

We are all a bit too cool to look at the camera.

A bit too cool to call instead of text.

A bit too cool to drink a beer when vodka is on tap.

A bit too cool to admit that you have actually met this person before, even if they dont remember you.

A bit too cool to remember that you used to do drama skits in front of the whole school and wear a ponytail on the side of your head and write letters to boys who didnt like you! (oh wait that was me.)

I guess its funny to remember those type of things, but i think we should get back to that..maybe not taking ourselves too seriously.

After all, arent we from the central coast?

Sunday, May 9, 2010


This is the legs, shoes, socks and picture of a friend I know called Ellen.

She is seated upon a balcony in a penthouse apartment in Cavill Circle in Surfers Paradise QLD.

Ive been there, shes been there, marie has been there.

It encapsulates an amazing memory that i hold in being there with her and meeting a few boys, including one we affectionately referred to as "Jimmy Retard."

Here is the photograph taken at around 5:45 AM on the 20th of February 2010 on the same balcony.
These photographs may have no relevance to you as the reader, but to me they are millions of little brain fireworks every time I view them.
You see, the moment where my life changed last year was in November when I went to visit Ellen after a year and a half of seperation.
After That weekend there was a triggered domino effect in which I thought my life was over.
I lost, but I also won because just as she is one of the most important people in my life.
She has, time and time again, been the sunshine that has come out of the darkness.
I just thought I should acknowledge that on this little online thought space, because all I know, is that without Ellen, I really do not know where I would be today.
In summation,
I just want to raise my schooner to Queensland,
and all the wonderful people that I have met in my travels to the north.
You know who you are, you have made my nights into mornings, and my downs into uppers (haha).
All the times we smoked cigarettes on the numerous hotel balconies,
that afternoon at Titanium,
The copious amounts of babes who reside in QLD.
God bless you, you are beautiful. And especially that one in front of Ruby Tramp who took mine and Ellens breath away.
To ELSEWHERE, the club that just keeps on giving.
To the hotels who forget that they actually have fold out couches and therefore we invite more people back to stay,
to Beenleigh and the Hyperdome,
to Lynn and John and Bethos.
To Joel and Elisha and Jaye and Jay and Marie and Carly and Nelson
and all those other people I met outside Elsewhere,
especially the guy who had the really long beard and then shaved it and looked ten times younger and pretty babe.
I was glad I got to see the transition.
To the hotel pools, to the mini bars, to the sacks of Lambrusco, to Swinging Safari, to The Coolangatta Hotel, to Teri Steak.
But most of all,
To Ellen Giebels.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010


I just spent three hours online trying to get tickets to Splendour in the Grass, and all I got out of it was an empty inbox, and extremely messed up appearance due to the swearing, running of hands through hair and failure to get out of pyjamas.


I was talking to this adonis of a man I know who will remain anonymous. He is an absolute babe of all babes which can make any girl shaky at the knees in his presence.

He gave me a really good idea about what to write on this thing. Its inspired by the ye olde question of

"What is cool?"

My personal definition is that cool is not caring about what people think, whether that be as an insecurity or as an avenue to attention.

But this sex kitten, last night, told me he had a little thing for the band NickelBack.

Sure, most people would cringe at that last sentence and possibly click that little red X in the top right hand corner in pure disgust.

But i would ask if you would read a little longer and see if we can change your mind.

Is it really such a social faux paus to admit to a band that gets reactions such as
"oh my are fucked."

I nearly broke my neck dancing to KISSCHASY at Splendour in the Grass 2009 amidst a meager looking crowd. I completely claimed this fact when I arrived home to recount the events of the festival to be welcomed with responses such as:

"Kisschasy? I wouldnt go around telling people that..."


"Wow...thats sad."

I really didnt think it was that sad. Whats wrong with Kisschasy?

Is it the fact that they accentuate their Australian accents vs. the ambiguously sounding Temper Trap?
Even though they are both from the same country?

I have found myself forcing my ears to listen and accept certain bands because they are just so "amazing" at the moment.

EXAMPLE: I will NEVER like Sigur Ros. I dont know why, but I just never will. They dont make any sense to me and I find the melodic tunes haunting, but not in a good way.

I would rather be belting out 'Always be my baby' by Mariah Carey with Ellen at all kinds of volumes...

Than sitting in a car with a cigarette and a nosehole listening to Sigur Ros even though I dont like them, but because those kids from the Northern Beaches who everyone forgets brought fluro to the scene back in 06/07, saw them at Splendour 08 and bought Ray Bans and decided that The Mona is a legitimate source for alternate hang time.



"I only like Kings of Leons old stuff."

So, if you really are a true fan of a certain band, if they do make it onto the final cog of the success machine and maybe outsource a hit to the general public, is that reason to absolutely boycot their music?

Fuck that.

That was the problem with the Bob Dylan (acoustic) fans vs. the Bob Dylan (Electric) fans.

If the band changes, or shit, if the audience that the band reaches changes, it is a pity to so quickly dismiss their new music.

Ill be the first to say it:

My favourite Kings of Leon album is : ONLY BY THE NIGHT.

i know....its like an earthquake.

Back to COOL v. MUSIC.

I say be proud of the fact that your favourite solo artist is Bruce Springsteen or Bon Jovi or even Celine Dion.
Claim it,

and if you are hit back with insult, just know that whoever said it has to spend Thursday nights at Mona Vale.


Did Bladerunner simultaneously start a chain of events leading me to this moment right now?

This is a question I put forward to myself everyday.

Ever since 1982, a good 6 years before I was born this movie has been in circulation either boring, confusing or changing the lives of the audience.

Now i know what you are thinking...

"getting drunk alone is fabulous. watching Bladerunner while doing it and thinking that you actually finally understand every aspect and have some amazing epiphany to it is even better."

Not saying that I did
Not saying that I didnt.

Have you ever been drunk alone?

I have.

Accidentally though. As in,

* I came home, and looked at the XXXX Summers Ellen had bought me in QLD.
* Yes I will have one.
* Shit, how did this happen?
* phone call from Jess Moss
* "Are you drunk?"
* "Maybe."

END of story.

well it wasnt...i giggled for about 10 more minutes then talked about how there are no babes out there anywhere and said goodbye.

It really should be appreciated more I believe. You can really assess your life and make some snap decisions in that time.

Sure, you will probably regret calling your nan, or adding that boy you met once three months ago at a party you werent invited to on FaceBook.

Or even writing a post on a blog that no one reads.


in saying all this bullshit,

Has anyone noticed the seasons and how they change the faint of heart and shallow in spirit?

WINTER: Everyone fucking shacks up and acts all devoted to their spouse knowing full and well that when

SUMMER: comes along, it will be all goodbyes and "dont talk to me's when we are out" in preparation for the latest spree of sluts that have just graduated from Terrigal High and looking to suck some dick before hoisting their future fat asses off to some University.

sorry if i offended anyone.

All im saying is, why does everyone have to be such a cliche?

"Hi, how are you tonight?"

"I have a girlfriend."


Monday, May 3, 2010


seeing as this blog is about music.
I thought it was interesting how songs can trigger a memory that you never even knew you had.

Like anything by Phoenix reminds me of Tim Bishop my roomie from 2009-2010.

Or, how Cold Chisel will forever remind me of my childhood and mum.

And how lately Underneath It all by No Doubt has made me want to love everyone.

I thought I would delve deep into my cerebral vortex and compile a list of songs and people i know, and the connection between them.

Lullaby: The Cure = Lauren Bacigalupo

Rapper's Delight: The Sugarhill Gang = Ruari Maginn

Run Run Run:Phoenix = Tim Bishop.

Cailin: Unwritten Law (forever & always) = Madeline Anderson.

The Good Fight: Dashboard Confessional, Consequence: Incubus, No Diggity: BlackStreet = Jessica Moss

Slow Night, So Long: Kings Of Leon, Night Time: The XX, Wish You Were Here: Pink Floyd = Bridie Sullivan.

Toxic: Britney Spears = Meg Bellemore

Tenderoni: Chromeo = Jack Lewis.

Use Somebody: Kings of Leon, Nasty Girl: Biggie & Crew = Dane Brisbourne.

Hidden Agenda: Craig David = Kate Gordon.

Leather so soft: D Boss, One Life Stand: Hot Chip, We Get On: Kate Nash, Swimming in the Flood: Passion Pit = Ellen Giebels.

Juno: Tokyo Police Club, At A Loss: The Presets = Randall Stagg.

Lisztomania: Phoenix = Mel Kenny.

Girls: Animal Collective = James Turnbull.

Fuck You: Dr. Dre, It Was A Good Day: Ice Cube = Josh White.

These are the songs i listen to every day and when I do i think of you.