Robyn’s Secret Passage

Hey, you know how when people write about their dreams in their LiveJournal it’s really boring because essentially it’s just fiction? Yeah, shut up. I had two dreams last night featuring musicians, the boys from Nesian Mystik and Alex James, the bass player from Blur.

In the Nesian Mystik dream I was driving down the road I park my car on, looking for a parking space. I saw a big van filled with guys and parked near them and asked if they were going to be moving soon. I noticed it was Nesian Mystik in the van. They said they would be moving right then. I asked if I could have their parking space. They said it was actually going to be used by someone else. I thanked them and parked my car in the space right in front of them, then went back and told them how much I loved their album. For the record, I have not heard Nesian Mystik’s album.

The Alex James dream was… well, it was exactly the right kind of dream that should be dreamed about Alex James.

The WBC possibly have a new logo. I think it may actually be a prototype, open to refinements. It can be viewed on the band’s profile at NZmusic.com. The new logo has: roses, dice, flames, tattoo-style wavy lines, stars, a microphone and the band’s name. Are there enough elements in the logo, or is there room for more? I think a Coop-style devilwoman should be resting her arse on the top of the W.

<stuuu> omg the dice are on fire. thats new
<stuuu> the dice werenty on fire in teh prototypes

I went to the King’s Arse to see the Shrugs play. I got there just as they were playing the final notes in the last song of their set. Dammit. But I was able to pick up the special CD commemorating the evening that included a new track from the Shrugs. Oh, but then when I got it home and tried to play it I discovered that the CD was blank. I took it back and politely yelled at the munter on the door and made him give me a new one. I did stick around to see a bit of the next band, The Feds, but they were very boring so I left.

The rest of my day has been somewhat unrockin’.

I was about to take a shower today when I noticed a bumble bee was hanging out on a hand towel by the corner of the bath. I didn’t want to run the risk of the bee stinging me on my arse when I was on the shower, so I knew that the bee had to be exterminated.

It seemed very groggy and was doing a really lazy buzz, possibly because it was dying. I picked up the hand towel and tried to shake the bee off it into the toilet, but the bee was hanging on. A spider who had also been hanging out in the environs of the towel fell off and into the toilet. I wiggled the towel more, and eventually the bee fell into the toilet.

I flushed the toilet and the bee was swept away, but amazingly the spider remained on top of the water. Once the flushing had stopped the spider was left just swimming around. I decided that he’d earned a bit of freedom, so I helped him out and put him back on the towel.

Later when I was in the shower I noticed the spider walk around the edge of the bath to visit me. Bloody pervert spider!

A couple of weeks ago I bought the newly released paperback edition of “What Not To Wear” and it has simultaneously ruined and enhanced my life.

The book is based on a BBC series where two fashion ladies Trinny Woodall and Susannah Constantine bluntly tell people exactly what not to wear. Their philosophy is that there is no such thing as natural style, that style is, in fact, something that anyone can achieve, it just takes a bit of effort.

“We roll our inexperience in comforting excuses - there’s the kids, the overdraft, no time, nor inclination. Clothes are immaterial, because you can rely on your fabulous personality and your partner is blind to you looking like a tramp, because he loves you just the way you are. At the end of the day this is bollocks.”

The book is, as the cover blurb says, brutally frank. There’s no bit where they celebrate wide hips or boney chests or somehow pretend that having a huge arse or no tits is actually a really wonderful thing.

I love the blunt language. For example, this is from the “Big Tits” section:

“Unfitted sleeveless shell top: Udders take on a lumpy quality like badly made custard.”

Or this from the “No Tits” section:

“Anything too fine and low: The gossamer fabric clings to the skin, creating a wet t-shirt effect, clutching raisins as opposed to peaches.”

But as well as all the advice of what not to wear, there’s also the flipside, the kind of clothes that will look really good on a fat arse, or make tiny titties seem bountiful. And the best thing about the book is that it’s not about making everyone dress the same. There’s room for total individuality within the guidelines. You can spend $3 or $300 on a top, but be able to buy a top that doesn’t make your arms look like two fat sausages.

I’ve also started paying attention to what other people wear when I’m out. Yesterday I noticed a lady wearing a pair of high-waisted, tapered jeans with a baggy, unfitted t-shirt. “Ha,” I thought to myself. “The high-waisted jeans increase the amount of fabric covering her bottom and belly, drawing attention to its size! The tapered leg emphasises the difference in width between the narrow ankles and the wide hips! The baggy t-shirt creates shapelessness and extra bulk!” Fortunately I had the self-restraint to keep those comments to myself.

Having read “What Not To Wear,” I now feel that about half the clothes in my wardrobe (actually, strewn on my bedroom floor) are totally inadequate, but I have more confidence in being able to buy something that looks good. I’m just glad that I’ve never gone through a Lycra leggings stage.

I tried making Thai chicken green curry (or something involving the words curry, green, chicken and Thai), but it didn’t quite work out. At least it wasn’t like the one that the Thai place in Mercury Plaza does. There was something in the curry paste that made me cough. Dammit, all I was trying to do was cook some delicious ethnic food, and instead I created a health risk.

I didn’t manage to scam a ticket to the bNet awards, but, like, I don’t care. I don’t know who was awarded what, but probably all the Auckland bands won, except in the downbeat category, and then a Wellington band will have won that.

Instead I went to Edens Bar and saw Assassin, The Shrugs and the Hollow Grinders.

Edens Bar is downstairs from the Vegas strip club. This maybe would give it some kind of sleazy rock cred, except for the fact that it’s been kitted out as a Korean karaoke bar, which is very un-rock. Ok, maybe a little rock. Oh, there was one of those energy saver light bulbs in the ladies toilets. It was saving so much energy that it didn’t actually emit enough light to light up the toilet cubicles. Ever tried to pee in the dark? It’s tricky.

Assassin are one of those rock ‘n’ roll bands that the kids and/or the music press are so into at the moment. They started off with a rip-roaring tune that got a few people jiggling, but their set soon devolved into a long sonic masturbation session that didn’t even have the courtesy of giving the audience a reach-around (that metaphor doesn’t work, I know, shut up, I like it).

This was the first time I’d seen the new Shrugs line up. The angry young man rhythm section had been replaced by a kinder, gentler couple. They can still rock out when necessary, but there’s also a kind of sensuality and tenderness that the olde Shrugs didn’t have. “Mustang song” was great. Oh, and Geoff Shrugs gave me a copy of the Shrugs new CD “The Doggler Effect”. It’s pretty much a collection of all the singles they’ve released over the past few years. It has all my favourites, so I’m happy.

The Grinders ruled. They did a solid, very fun set. There was one song in particular that was as great as “Mustang Song”. I can’t remember what it was called, but for posterity I shall note that it was about four or five songs into the set and Otis played lead guitar on it. Later on I found myself thinking impure groupie-style thoughts. That’s what rock is all about, I think.

I was walking home along the Symonds Street motorway overbridge. It started to rain, first little droplets, then big, fast, heavy rainfall. It was interesting seeing the number of people who stopped and crossed over to the other side of Symonds Street and caught a bus. That’s what I did too.

Earlier I noticed some very cool police action at the K Road/Pitt Street/Mercury Lane intersection. There was one cop standing up the top. Whenever a car would violate the intersection blocking rule, he’d walk over and give the driver the branding words, or take down license plate numbers if the car got away. Also, whenever a vehicle travelling from Pitt Street to Mercury Lane tried to speed through an orange light, but ended up running a red, the cop would radio through to another cop parked down Mercury Lane a bit, and he’d get the offending vehicle to pull over. I was crossing over Mercury Lane on a green man when a red van shot through. It was pleasing seeing the cop make him stop.

Even earlier I met up with Chris Foggynotion. It was very cool meeting him. I still have this idea that everyone on the internet is a huge loser geek with bad hygiene and no social skills, so whenever I meet someone of the net who turns out to be the complete opposite of that, it’s a pleasant surprise.

Ok, here’s something fun. Remember when I posted the pic of me in Paris? And Yesmum commented that “‘Robyn in Paris’ is the new ‘Man standing on top of the World Trade Centre with a Plane in the Background’.” Well, one of my special interweb friends also picked up on that and got busy with Photoshop.

• Robyn, Paris and the WTC guy’s plane.
• Robyn, Paris and the WTC guy.
• Robyn, Paris and the “Independence Day” attack.
• Robyn, Paris and a mysterious UFO.
• Robyn, Paris and a totally not worksafe naked man.