The Only Light

When the world is crashing down around you and you are quietly imploding internally, there is only one thing left to bring a moment's joy into your life: Vegemite and avocado on a corn thin.

It is pure. Pure, unadultered gold and sunlight. It gives one a reason, the only reason she has, for getting out of bed.

As life has turned a very dark shade of black and the temperature has plumetted well below zero, I shan't be 'round to play for while.

x

Ouch! That's My - Oh Yeah, I Asked You To Do That Didn't I?

So, lying on a bench the other day, wearing a paper g-string (think small, linen, waist high Japanese cock pouch - VERY wrong) with my knees pulled up to my chest and a stranger attentively pouring hot, hard wax and prodding me around the labia majora, perinneum and such regions (that we don't usually love to mention when they're our own, especially in such a distastefully clinical and non sexual way), my glory spread to the heavens, feeling about as fucking exposed, vulnerable and ridiculous as one could POSSIBLY EVER FEEL, I decided, between gasps, 'what better way to distract said stranger from my anguish/hole(s) than to introduce the topic of film criticisms?'

And thus I launched into my take on Brokeback Mountain: "yeah, nah, yeah, good...? Yeah it was good. Didn't really blow me away though."

Fuck, conversation over. Thoughts of two hotties getting it on in the mountains surely can't distract her for that long. In fact she might get carried away and start crying over my giney or get aroused... Ummmmmmm... Shit!

So I quickly jumped in with "And I plan on seeing Walk the Line tonight."* That'll get her, I thought. Yup.

Oh jeeze. I ran out of things to say so just tried to control my breathing and not to cry with humiliation.

* I did in fact see it and it was AWESOME!!!!!!! Fucking brilliant. One Joaquin is worth ten Jake and Heaths. Both he and Reese Witherspoon are brilliant and the movie is amazing in every way.

This blog successfully includes the longest sentence I ever did write (yeah whatever Steve Martin), the most embarrassing truth about my self yet exposed and the weirdest format for film review ever. Go darce!

Favourite thing today: just to turn another corner (hell why not)... Switch Board for one of the hottest coffee experiences in town.

Kings of Leon and other Adventures of Darcy

A wee absence. Let me just say that funding applications are a sure way of driving you to the land of fucking boring, where one gets old.. fast.

So Kings of Leon. I think I'm getting too old for live gigs where there are no seats. I think I always was too old. Why was I born old?

The only reason some teenager didn't get my broken Becks bottle rammed into their eye was because THEY ONLY SERVE DRINKS IN PLASTIC CUPS after 10pm at the frickin' Palace. What kind of a palace is that? Not one fit for a princess like me, that's for sure. Nor, indeed, my fair prince.

I survived a set and a half of fuckin' shit boring support acts before squeezing my way out to the back where I could get some breathing space with the adults.

And yeah, they were pretty good but if they didn't tell us how much fun they were having up there (way more than Sydney apparently - YEAH!), I'd have never guessed. They were better than comedy night at the Brunswick Hotel but not as good as Bonnie "Prince" Billy's gonna be! Ears are still ringing today - don't you hate deaf sound mixers?

A late review of the Big Day Out: I tried to throw my phone number at M.I.A and her sexy side kick but it bounced off someone's head. Getting wet just thinking about them up there. HOT!!!!!

It's always nice to catch a glimpse of someone's head on the main stage. That way you really know they're there.

Go! Team were the no team.

Iggy... well if you like your steak over cooked...

Beer and ice cream - FAR TOO EXPENSIVE!!!!

Last B.D.O I reckon.

That's all I squeezed into my life beyond rehearsals and application land. Don't be jealous.

Favourite thing today: my osteopath. I think I want to make love to him.

Hmmm

I like my smell.

All of them.

Does Cate Blanchett Ask Herself These Questions? Probably Not.

I think acting is one of the weirdest occupations ever. I really do.

(Aparently weirdest is not a word but for the purposes of this, it is. OK?)

I am constantly asking myself why I am doing it and swinging between unbridled passion and enthusiasm (less of the latter as the years go by) and utter confusion.

I mean, to start, it's make believe. But we frequently take it very seriously. I was sitting around with a group of rather fabulous actors today, a rather fabulous actor/director and a fabulously fabulous actor/writer, discussing the psychology of the scenes and lines and their meanings and the back history and BLA BLA BLA!!!!!! Whilst I also take this very seriously, well perhaps serious is a little bit of a misrepresentation, but I do engage in it and offer insightful, intelligent and hilarious comments whilst throwing up challenging questions and possibilities (as you can imagine)... but I digress - where was I? Ah yes, whilst I also engage in this I am frequently struck with the ridiculousness of it and have to stop myself from blurting out "BAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH. WHATEVER!!!!!!!!!" and running around the room like Ken Bruce with my pants down.

Then there's the whole "career" thing. What a fucken' joke. There are about seven actors in Australia (even though they're in America) making a career out of it. Making a living that is. I frequently hang my head in shame and mumble under my breath that I am an actor because I find it hard to take seriously as a job and even harder to call myself one when I am in fact selling fruit and vegetables or renovating cafes. And I fret and sweat over where my next job will come from, if I will ever work again and if I will ever get a role that I actually like. The only one year of my life where I survived entirely off acting and didn't have to resort to any other jobs was on a job which was probably the lowlight of my acting curriculum vitae and which I was deeply disappointed in and embarrassed of.

Then there's trying to take yourself seriously as you enter stage left and act all real and listen and remain "present" whilst trying to find your light and not bump into the furniture then exit and carry on as you were, returning to your game of sudoku in the dressing room.

Then there's celebrity and fame and I won't even go there cause it's a quagmire and thankfully I don't have to deal with it.

The upside is that when you are a part of a great show/film/(are there any great Australian TV shows? I"m sure there have been) you feel exhilarated. You are telling stories and taking audiences somewhere and WAIT! Please stay with me here! It's true. Acting is entertaining/informative/reflective/challenging/healing... all sorts of fucking wonderful things and, dare I say it, enormously important for us all.

Imagine a world with no TV, theatre, films, satires!

But still. I think I've done one of those in the past five years.

It's weird and wonderful and offensive and exciting and demanding and silly and fun and fucked.

Truth is I never feel wholly myself until I'm doing it.

Favourite thing today: having an acting job.

(I could have gone on forever on this one but I thought I'd keep it brief. Life's too frickin' short.)

Last Weekend of my Holiday

The only way to cope with a weekend inside a fan forced oven is to eat frozen things all day, take a plunge in the teeming urban version of heaven (The Brunswick Baths) and drink Cerveza with lime whilst playing backgammon with a hottie.

The only way to cope with turning up to a "Dirty" thirtieth in a suit jacket and tie (sans top, avec saucy bra), high heels, seemed fish nets and raunchy knickers (you got it, no pants/skirt) and cum (moisturiser) dribbling out the corner of my mouth and down my chin and finding a roof top of mother fuckers, NONE OF WHOM ARE DRESSED UP, is to make like I am BETTER than Bridget Jones and just fucking act normal.

I was, needless to say, popular.

Favourite thing today: my spray bottle. Fill a spray bottle with water and squirt yourself and sheets periodically during the day/night. Especially good with a fan. Brilliant.

I Wanna Bust Out Too!!!!

Having just finished Shantaram (finally!!!!!) I opened the paper today to read about two other recent jail escapees:

Robert Cole (also known as Andrew David Robertson; mysteriously not unlike author of Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts), who starved himself, in a matter of weeks, into a pint sized super model prisoner so he could squeeze out between the edge of his cell window and it's external bars. Thankfully Who Magazine was not around at the time to take photos of him by the prison pool and therefore his diet regime went unnoticed til he slipped from his room, scaled a wire fence, climbed another, walked along it and jumped over the edge to his freedom, leaving in his a wake a bundle of pillows under his sheets. (My mum would never have fallen for that one). He was so small that not even the security cameras or motion detectors picked him up. Do we think he CSIRO dieted his way to freedom? Or was it the blood group diet? At any rate, look out fatties! I think we've just found ourselves Australia's Biggest Winner!!!!

Then there was a return to jail for Christopher Dean "Badness" Binse who has successfully escaped from prison or hospital security wards no less than SEVEN times!!!! Fuck me dead! He must love the place though, or maybe it's the challenge of getting out again. He only got out of jail last February (in a limo). This time he threatened to kill two strippers at Spearmint Rhino and took a bullet out of his gun to leave at the scene. Huh? And they think Cole is a sicko.

I can't wait to see how he gets out this time.

Anyway, Gregory David Roberts escaped over the front frickin' wall of Pentridge in broad day light! Don't worry if you haven't read the book, I'm not giving anything away here.

So I've decided that if I ever go to jail, I am definitely busting out! I've got a middle name and everything! Have any women escaped from jail in Australia? In the mean time I have compiled a list of things to do in prison:

1. Lose weight

2. Get fuck off fit

3. Read loads and fast track another degree... something useful this time.

4. Get over my fear of masturbating in a room full of women.

5. Get religious.

6. Get unreligious

7. Seduce a guard

8. Write love letters to my beloved (not the guard!!! My beloved on the outside!)

9. Meditate

10. Get a tat or three

11. Start a food fight in the mess hall

12. Make a number plate

13. Start a jail yard choir

14. Campaign for organic meals

15. Avoid getting my head kicked in

16. Let a lady touch me in my swim suit area

17. Find out what Jika Jika means anyway

18. Do some movement workshops with the prisoners. No wait a minute, I just re read 15. Scrap that. Ummm... howl at the moon

19. Grow my pubes down to my ankles (could be handy in my escape)

20. Befriend a rat (could also be handy)

See yous cunts on the other side!

Favourite thing today: Shantaram. You simply gotta read it. It's amazing.

Am I Back?

... I Don't Know.

I just thought I'd test the waters.

I wrapped my dog poo in Leyton Hewit's face today and it gave me such pleasure. (I don't even care if I spelled his name incorrectly. Suck it Leyton!)

I am back... in Melbourne that is. Been blissing out in Lorne with blissful people (the ones in my house, not in town), blissful weather, blissful food, blissful views and fresh air and a dog that makes me laugh hourly. Been as blissed out as one can be with a bung neck... like a blissed out nanna. That's me. Ahhhh... Codeine. How I love thee. Bliss.

Before that it was worksville, hence the absence.

Christmas was ace, New Year's was acer - very grown up, until we broke into the Brunswick Baths. Did I say that out loud? It wasn't me!

Gettin' ready to start full time rehearsals so no promises on the blog front.

My new year's blogsolution is to blog when I want, about what I want, in the manner I want.

So what's new darce?

Well, it means that I don't care if you don't like irregular posts, I'm not going to drop in on anyone to let you know I'm around and I'm going to try to avoid writing crap for the sake of writing. So we'll see how it goes. I am periodically confused by what the hell I am doing in the blogosphere anyway so... I'm gonna cruise.

Happy New Year dudes. (I am aware that I may be talking to myself here.)

Favourite thing today: my tomatoes. They've gone sick.