bexxta's New Writeups

The Fumes (thing)

2006-08-24T10:19:27Z

The Fumes exploded onto the Sydney music scene in 2004, their dirty blues-tinged rock creating a stir akin to a car backfiring in a street crowded with extremely skittish people. Their music has been described as to not sound out of place in 'a dukes of hazzard car chase'. It's hard, fast, loud. Travelling music if I ever heard any. Barefoot, grass stomping music. Prepare to dance crazier than a schizophrenic Mexican mechanic trying to shake a tarantula out of his pants.

Drums, Guitar and Vocals. No Bass. The Fumes are one Steve Merry; Accomplished on the resonator guitar, and throwing some wild slide and passionate finger picking rhythm into the mix with thanks (in part) to some mentoring in the US from Bob Brozman. And Joel Battersby; There were no pots and pans for this boy. After starting drum lessons to avoid looking like a copy cat to his…

What was once well planned in a mad girls mind, and is now quickly becoming a last minute nodermeet (event)

2006-08-16T14:29:31Z

What: The unfled and unrepentant requests your presence for a nodermeet.

Where: There has been grovelling, and the meet will be taking place in Moonee Ponds, Melbourne, Australia at the residence of heppigirl and tWD. This is a few stops out of the city by train, and 3 minutes walk from the station. /msg heppigirl for detailed directions

When: Sunday 27th August 2006, from 1pm onwards.

Why: People can be nasty, but they can also be delightfully dreamy individuals... I need to collect a few more of the latter and that means you. Besides, it's high time I met some of one of my favourite persons most favourite people. And a dare is a dare... Let's get more than 6 people in attendance, and have me hailed a hero.

Anything else you should know?

Music: Music is the food…

May 30, 2006 (fiction)

2006-05-30T15:34:00Z

You slide notes under my door. Occasionally I, in darkness run eager fingertips along the slit where lino meets wood, in the quest to find paper. Lately my questing fingers are rarely successful. I leave messages in your fly-screen. Your front door is as warped by age as mine. Only my garden door will accept your words.

More frequent at night, I hear you coming and going. I see lights on the drive, and feel like calling out. Once I screamed to you. You did not hear me, my voice stifled by nerves and the creaky walls of old houses. The walls do let noise through though. I hear your faucet run, and the dull electric hum of your garden lights. Do you hear the splish splashing of my…

The softest brushes of lips against cheek (idea)

2003-02-07T13:05:37Z

just another tasty treat from the weeknight sound track collection - Monday 3am

' Mad as a hatter minus the mercury. ' He would reply if someone were to so much as question him on the subject of her sanity. Her almost lackadaisical outlook to life made some wonder.

They had fallen in an unconventional kind of love. Her words were simple. Soft, lingering as if music from another room; or the softest brushes of her lips against his cheek. People seemingly had everything back-to-front and inside-out, for it was her words which fed him sanity drop, by precious drop.

3am would long pass before they would elope with the luxury of sleep. She was a sane, yet fragile creature. Time would gradually be filled with the graceful…

Chocolate Crackles (recipe)

2003-02-07T05:15:09Z

A child's birthday party in Australia would not be the same without a few essentials. I am speaking of fairy bread, minty hunts, and an endless supply of the wonderful chocolate treat known to every kid in the country as chocolate crackles. Remember your delight as they dissolved into a party for the mouth, tastebuds clinging and lingering to taste every last skerrick of nummy goodness?

Every adult is a child at heart... Even if they have to dig way down to find the child lurking deep below the surface of their otherwise mature appearance. Today is my fathers birthday and chocolate crackles are his favourite treat, so I found myself in the kitchen (for what is a birthday without your most loved goodies?!). Trust me. Your precious childhood memories are true, and indulging in some chocolate crackles every once in a while will not make them diminish. So use…

The smiles you smiled when you thought no one was looking (fiction)

2003-01-19T03:07:12Z

The imprint of your smile lingers against my fingertips. It is smeared across my lips. Vibrant, secretive... Yet, it is not my favourite smile.

For there are times when peoples backs seem to turn on you. And in those moments darling, your smile is amplified.

Radiating outwards, as if from a private joke you share with only yourself. It is the world you make fun of.

You gorgeous boy. If I could capture that smile on film, if only to refresh my fading sunspotted memory, I tell you now that my life's purpose would be complete.

Your whole face takes part in this work of art. Different components merely actors in a play too grand…