I first saw Vanessa Larry Mitchell at the Northern Rivers Hotel in Lismore a few years ago, where she was hosting a comedy showcase. Some of the local comedians were fantastic, while others were… well, less so. That was years ago, but I’ve been following her career ever since.
I’ll never forget that night, as I ended up being the butt of her jokes. I was “the guy from Surry Hills” even though I was born and bred in South Lismore.
From that moment, I was hooked. It was clear she was an incredible talent, turning a seemingly dull job into a vibrant career as a comedian. A public speaker and trainer with a background in the disability and community sectors, Vanessa honed her craft on the North Coast before writing her hilarious show, “Tears Are My Dildo.” The show went on to tour nationally and even made it all the way to Edinburgh.
When I saw her again at the Sydney Comedy Festival a couple of years ago, she looked at me and said, “I know your face.” I reminded her of that Wednesday night in Lismore and the part I played in her routine. I must have one of those faces that comedians love to pick on—and I’m always happy to play along.
I saw her perform again just last night at the Sydney Fringe Festival. And sure enough, I was once again the butt of her jokes. When she asked where I was from, I told her Lismore, and we had a great chat after the show about our shared connection to the city.
Like many others, Vanessa lost everything in the Lismore floods in 2022. It was wonderful to see her tackle that difficult period with her signature humor, weaving some jokes about the experience into her first show, Tears On My Dildo. The new show, Lube Me Alone primarily focused on sex and dating and relationships, as the name would imply. The thing I love most about her humour is the joy with which she delivers it all.
The hour-long show was a blast, and I hope my nieces enjoy it just as much as I did.
I stayed in bed for as long as I “could” today. The last few weeks have been exhausting. But I still managed to get out and about, exploring Hobart. Terrific place.
John Williamson, Pixie Jenkins, Warren H. Williams, James O’Brien at ABC Studio, Tamworth
I started off 2003 at the Lewisham Hotel at an event called “Retrovision” featuring – you guessed it – music from the 70s and 80s. The music, with a few notable exceptions, wasn’t the usual camp and girly music you might expect; it was an eclectic combination, combining everything from Starship’s “We Built This City” to The Sweet’s “Fox On The Run” and of course, ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”.
I knew it was 2003 when, at a few minutes past midnight, several people used their mobile phones to SMS friends. I discussed the pros and cons of this at work later in the week, with one bloke observing “oh that’s nice”, while another wondered “why do they have to tell someone what they’re doing, why can’t they just live the moment?”.
When it was all over and done, ABBAMAILER Paul and I headed towards Newtown, hoping to get into the Imperial Hotel, a pub I haven’t been to for ages. Unfortunately, they had reached the “lock up” stage of the night where they were only allowing previous patrons (with stamps) back in – or at least that’s why they told us – so they suggested we try a bar on King Street which neither one of us had heard of before. As Paul wrote to ABBAMAIL, it was “full of ugly men and rank moles”, so after a couple of beers we left.
Unlike last year, which I spent a fair deal of out of Sydney, this year was mostly spent hanging around the greater metropolis. This year I made a definite effort to get out and about more to discover more about Sydney, visiting places such as “The Great Synagogue” – the first thing I noticed, on entering the synagogue, was the security provisions, having to pass through an x-ray machine, and being asked where I was from and why I wanted to visit the synagogue – and “Goat Island”.
It’s New Years Eve and I’m in Lismore, contemplating what I might do tonight. Any suggestions?
I also had quite a few trips to the country.
In February, Sue and I spent a few days in February at Point Lonsdale, a small holiday resort on the western head of Port Phillip Bay, near Geelong. As it was not far from Barwon Heads, the place where they filmed “Seachange”, we went looking for “Laura’s Beachhouse”. Although there was something at the caravan park called “Laura’s Beachhouse”, it looked NOTHING like it did in the television program. Anyway, there was nothing to Barwon Heads. And we noticed another nearby town also claimed to be the “Home Of Seachange”. Very confusing.
I also had a wonderful work-related trip to Mudgee. I stayed at a wonderful guesthouse called, Wild Wood. I understand that Henry Lawson lived on the property for some time and the “Sapling Gully” that he wrote about was about 30metres from my window. The couple who run the place, Rob and Ann come originally from Sydney, having made the “seachange” about seven years ago. The guesthouse was built by a reclusive figure who no longer lives in the area complete with compressed earth walls. Overall a lovely place to stay, with breakfast prepared every morning and a
relaxed attitude from Rob and Ann.
The other work-related visit was for the NSW Palliative Care Conference at Griffith, where I was invited to perform the role of MC.
I took part in some of the Peace Marches this year, including the big one on Palm Sunday where I ran into Colin. I thought the speeches were long and some were unecessary, which led the crowd to call for them to cut short and for us all to “get marching”. There was also a strong anti-Israeli element in some of the speeches which I personally felt a little uncomfortable with. There were some great slogans, including “Somewhere in Texas a village is missing an idiot.” I also liked “Bisexuals For Peace”, commenting to Colin, “Well, at least they’re sure about one thing!”
I also marched – inadvertently – with Fred Nile. A couple of months ago, I was awoken by a phone call from my friend, Yvette asking me if I wanted to join her for a march from the Domain to Hyde Park for a Bali rememberance. Sure, I said, and so within about 15 minutes I was showered and waiting for her on the corner of her street. We wandered down to the Domain, picking up a coconut slice and can of Coke along the way. When we arrived there the crowds we had expected were nowhere to be found. Instead, we joined a group of a couple of hundred, mostly Christians taking part in an inter-denominational march, including Fred Nile.
I didn’t, however, go to Mardi Gras this year. Although organisers claim it was the weather, terrorism etc. that kept numbers down this year, my guess is that Sydney, generally, and many others are “over” Mardi Gras.
I went to quite a bit of theatre this year. One particularly memorable occasion was in February, when Damien and I went to see a play at Belvoir Street called “Mother & Child”, a translation of the Norwegian play, “Mor og Barn” by Jon Fosse. It concerns a young man returning to visit his mother in Oslo after many years apart. As he was raised by his grandparents, they have many “issues”. The focus for the play is their inability to communicate, although they are, in many ways very similar. One of the most amusing parts of the play was the reaction of the mother to the appearance of a cockroach on the sparsely decorated stage. Sensing some members of the audience were being distracted by it, she looked at it (totally in character) with some annoyance, walked over and squashed it. The audience loved it.
Colin and I also became regular Friday night theatre-goers with “Muftee Cabaret”, featuring Hayden Tee at The Stables Theatre.
Muf-Tee’s director, Les Solomon, has created a chat show with Hayden Tee as the host and the musical director, Nigel Ubrihien, as his sparring partner. By having a couple of cabaret-performing guests each week, they have a format which – like its small-screen counterparts – can constantly reinvent itself. It is a strange case of art imitating TV. – Sydney Morning Herald.
Well worth going. however, my favourite theatrical experience of the year was seeing the Christine Johnson show, “Decent Spinster”. She’s an amazing performer. Another magnificent night was seeing jazz-singer, Barbara Morrison perform at Wine Banc. Amongst those in the crowd were jazz singer, Emma Paske and trumpeter, James Morrison, both of whom performed with her. Musically speaking, it was a very memorable night. Once we found a couple of chairs and located a good space, we sat back, enjoyed the music and enjoyed some excellent French wine.
It’s great being on the freebie list. On one occasion, we ALMOST made the social pages. On the opening night of “Birth Rights” by David Williamson, Damien and I met at about 7pm at Opera Bar and had a drink or two before heading upstairs. On arrival, we noticed a couple of celebrities including the actor, Gary McDonald, but thought that it was a fairly standard Sydney opening night crowd. A photographer from the City Weekly actually asked if he could take our photograph. We said yes. I’ve never really been in the social pages before this. He asked us what side of the bridge we were from, since publication would depend on which version of the magazine we would eventually appear in. All was fine, until Bryan Brown and Rachael Ward and numerous other REAL celebrities arrived. And that’s why I never appeared in the social pages, despite going to so many opening nights!
There was nothing to report on the romance front. However, I did fill in one of those internet-based personality tests. The report told me
You’re loved, and for good reasons. You’re smart, insightful,
and have an insatiable curiosity about life. You have a vision for how you want your life to be, so you refuse to settle long-term for a boring job or doing something just because it’s expected of you.
Life should be “balanced” with plenty of time for fun, spontaneity, and romance! Because you’re independent and a little shy, you only let a few people get especially close. Still, you have an emotional depth that most men lack. You’re ready and able to experience romance and a powerful
“spark” with someone special.
Unfortunately, the report told me You face two major challenges in finding the love of your life.
First, because you’re shy, you feel like you have to be someone else or “wear a mask” to go out and meet new people. You’re left feeling like a distant observer, and men find it hard to truly understand you. Second, although your compassion for men is a very attractive
quality, your focus on him can get in the way of getting what you want and need. It’s crucial to find a way to “go with the flow” in dating as you already do in other parts of your life.
From time to time this year I have toyed with the idea of moving back here, since my sisters are now getting a little bit older. I’m not sure if I could do it though. The place has changed, but not that much. What brought it to focus was in May, when I went to the Sydney launch of the book, “Belonging in the Rainbow Region (Cultural Perspectives on the NSW North Coast)”, published by Southern Cross University. The contents list suggests it’s a post-1973 history, focussing on all the “amazing things” that have happened since the Aquarius Festival. I also met quite a few people – mostly blowins – who have lived in the area. I actually sensed a little discomfort when I told them I was a local, born and bred. I really sense that a lot of the people who have moved to the area view the white locals as a bunch of inbred rednecks and that the new arrivals were the region’s saviours. Although it is hard to quantify, it is a feeling I have sensed for quite some time. It needs further investigation. Perhaps the Pacific Highway by-pass and more local students going through Southern Cross University will help make these “blow ins” less insular?
And so, here it is, New Years Eve in Lismore.
In February, I’m off to Perth to spend nine months working there. Who knows what the future may hold?
The day started off normal enough. I woke early and then hit the snooze button until about nine o’clock. I showered, had some coffee, checked email, and loaded a blog-post about last night. My only real plan for the day was a visit to the cemetery. I really like cemeteries for their historical value, and the cemetery on the southern side of Stockholm is interesting enough to have received heritage listing by UNESCO.
Cemetery, Stockholm
The tour guide explained the significance of the cemetery as a woodland cemetery, one of the few in the world. The integrity of the landscape has been maintained with few modifications, and by ensuring minor details are in keeping with the major vision. He also explained how the cemetery was designed with increasing secularism in mind, and with a trend away from burials towards cremation. Ninety percent of Swedes are now cremated, we were told.
As part of the tour we also got to go inside a number of chapels. “This is very popular with Catholics” our guide said at one point. He didn’t have to tell me , though, as I knew that even before he said it, as it was the only one which was traditionally Christian in any sense. Most of the chapels were entirely functional. And where there was art work, the imagery was fairly general, open to a lot of individual interpretation. Greta Garbo Grave in Stockholm
A large part of the tour group was made up from members of the Stockholm chapter of “Couch Surfing”. Couch Surfing, by the way is a not-for-profit organisation which allows people to sleep on each others couches (or beds I guess) as a low cost means of travel. When I got to chatting over a cup of tea with one of the blokes who was part of the group, I mentioned a friend of mine who had recently “Couch Surfed” for Swedish mid-summer at Dalarna. And guess what? So had he. He told me my friend was very very nice. But also fairly quiet, and “not a big party animal like many of the others who were there”, he said.
Sodermalm Cliffs, StockholmView from Sodermalm Cliffs, Stockholm
We met again later at the bus stop and he invited me to join him, as he planned to meet a friend for a walk around the cliffs of Sodermalm.
There’s an excellent walk you can do which takes you along cliffs and allows you to sit on rocks which afford an excellent view of the city. We also visited some of the many back streets of Sodermalm. He was an excellent tour guide and very kind host. Anyway, the upshot of it all is that somehow we ended up at a hippy rave called Langholmen 07. By my guess, there was maybe 500-700 people in a forest setting on the nearby island of Langholmen dancing to groovy music, enjoying good conversation, and especially enjoying the Swedish summer.
Eco dance rave partyEco dance rave party
The weather was great. There was a great vibe to the place, and there was a wide cross section of people attending. I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Of course, it could also be because the whole event had a very “North Coast” feel about it all. Lots of dreadlocks, lots of incense.
This was especially evident when a bloke wearing some kind of traditional South American clothing climbed to the top of the hill and then began to blow on some kind of sea shell in time to the music.
I got chatting to a Swedish bloke I was introduced to, who told me he likes to go clubbing, but this wasn’t really his scene. “It’s more a lifestyle than anything” he said. In Australia, I told him, they’d be called “ferals”, and then asked him what they’re called in Sweden. He told me they’re called “woodland people” because they have lots of parties in the woodlands.
So that’s how I ended up at a hippy rave party in Sweden.
“Stockholm Pride is more political and less humorous than Sydney’s Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, but it also seems more inclusive,” I explained to an Australian friend who has lived in Stockholm for 12 years.
“That’s not to say Sydney’s Mardi Gras isn’t political,” I added. “It is, but it’s usually expressed with humor and satire.”
Stockholm Pride is more explicitly political than many other Pride events. Most of the major political parties participate, and I even saw former Swedish Prime Minister Mona Sahlin marching. There is also a greater awareness of broader political issues beyond Sweden’s borders, which I appreciate. Organizers recognize that people in some parts of the world do not enjoy the same freedoms as LGBTQ+ people in Sweden.
My favourite “float” is the group which features people with gaffer tape over their mouths marching with the sign “Marching for those who can’t”. Great stuff!
It’s not only political, though, and there’s a fair bit of cross dressing and fun, colourful costumes.
“It gets better” in recognition of young people.Family groups watching Stockholm Pride
Having seen a fair few of these types of parades over the years there’s not a lot that can shock or surprise any more. That said, the sight of a heavily tanned and reasonably overweight completely naked 60-something woman did kind of shock me. In the midst of all the glitter, there was someone completely naked walking down the street! After the shock wore off I was left with a feeling “good on her”, knowing I could never do anything like that myself.
Graeme with rain protection in the form of a handkerchief.
I especially loved being able to watch the show with my friend Graeme who is here right now, along with Sandra and Robert.
Sandra is my “pen pal”, as we might have said thirty years ago before the internet. We’ve been following each other’s blogs for a couple of years now. We met last year in Sweden, and this year in Sydney. And once again now in Stockholm.
“They’re a really great couple”, I said to Graeme, as we bid Sandra and Robert a fond farwell later in the afternoon.
I worked today. It was an early start, meaning I had to be at work at about 4.30am. Along the way I picked up the newspapers from the Taylor Square Newsagency. I did my job. I came home. And then I went to sleep for a while.
And then I woke up and read the news about the death of Eartha Kitt. Yeah I know, Harold Pinter has also died, but the news of the death of Eartha Kitt was far more personally interesting to me.
I first became aware of her work in the early 1980s when she released “Where Is My Man”, a very camp number written and produced by the team behind Village People. I vividly remember the first time I heard the song on the radio. It was the end of high school, and I was giving my friends Louise and Dale a lift home. And then all of a sudden it came on the radio. For whatever reason – and I’m sure you could spend ages psycho-analysing why – the song instantly resonated with me…
Over the next few years I discovered more of her back-catalogue, most of it through watching drag shows in Brisbane. I loved the dramatic and usually ironic quality in her works, especially in songs like “Old Fashioned Girl”. And she was also very “naughty” which I loved. Throughout the 80s and 90s, I kept collecting her new releases, mostly in the vein of “Where Is My Man”. Camp. Disco. Fantastic. I also began to dig deeper into her work, and to realise how important she was as a figure in the civil rights movement in America.
And then in the early 1990s, while I was working in Canberra, I remember Eartha Kitt performing there. After the show, as we walked into the Hyatt Hotel for supper, I remember walking past a colleague at the time, a bloke called Barrie Casey who already had a table. I don’t know whatever happened to Barrie, but at the time, he was quite a well known figure around Canberra. “James, how are you?”, he said to me as we walked past, looking around for a table. And then I looked at him and recognised his supper companion. “James, this is Eartha. Eartha, this is James”, he said. We smiled and said hello to each other. That was probably about the extent of the conversation, I guess. I still remember it, though, fondly, as “The Night I Met Eartha”.
When I walked in the door of my apartment this afternoon, the first thing I noticed was how the lifeless stalks I bought last week had become wonderful blooms. They don’t have a lot of fragrance, they’re not overly attractive, but there’s something about them I quite like. Maybe it’s the extended period (more than a week) that it’s taken for them to emerge? Perhaps, deep down, I think it’s somehow analogous for something far deeper?
Apartment Flowers
I came home early this afternoon, as I’m heading into work equally early for the next few days. As I caught the bus in at about 5.45 this morning, I couldn’t help but notice how happy everyone on-board seemed. Though later in the morning, people on the buses which go from Cleveland Street to Railway Square are often grumpy – people don’t talk and avoid each other’s gaze – this morning they were chatty and friendly. Maybe I should catch the bus to work at this time more often?
Jacaranda Tree – Oxford Street, Paddington
Many of my work-mates today told me they had a case of Monday-itis. Quite a few of them had come to work my birthday drinks on Friday (I showed around the photographs), and had continued with a range of social activity over the weekend. I also had a fairly memorable weekend.
When I woke on Saturday, one of the first things I did was write a couple of blog posts and ask Graeme to email me the photographs he had taken the night before. Not long after, I had a phone call from Colin who was having a problem with his computer. After unsuccessfully trying to fix the problem over the telephone I wandered over to his place later in the afternoon.
And then on Saturday night, The Other Andrew and I went to see Kiki & Herb at the Sydney Opera House. Although I had booked the tickets on Andrew’s recommendation, I wasn’t entirely sure if I would enjoy the show, possibly best described as “anarchic New York drag cabaret”. Even as the show began, I wasn’t entirely sure if I would or could enjoy two hours of this, even though I loved the opening numbers.
But I did. I really loved the show. I loved the hardline political comment. I loved the way nothing was “off limits”, including – I swear – the deaths of Jon-Benet Ramsay and Madeline McCann. I loved the way Kiki and Herb played with a variety of musical genres. I loved the strength of their individual performances. And when Kiki attacked a group of very drunk people in the front row, I applauded loudly. “This is shameful that I have to ask you, but would you please shut up, and remember that you’re in a theatre watching a show, you’re not in a bar”, Kiki told the front row group which had been chatting throughout most of the show. As the audience errupted into cheers and applause, the group of women in the front row folded their arms and pursed their lips. For the two of the women in the front row it was a call to arms, as defiantly, they then continued to chatter throughout the remainder of the performance. Why did they come, I wondered? And why did they book front row seats? And why, when they were told they were annoying the performers (and presumably the rest of the audience), did they continue. Arrogance or booze? Or a combination of both, perhaps?
Jacaranda Tree – Oxford Street, Paddington
Hopefully in years to come my memory of the night won’t be over-shadowed by this terrible embarassing incident, when the show itself was so incredibly wonderful. With plans to visit New York next year, I would love to see Kiki & Herb again. This was just the kind of cutting-edge cabaret I would love to see more of. And when I heard on the news over the weekend of the Stage Hand’s Strike which has closed down much of Broadway at the moment, I mentioned to a colleague at work today… “It better not happen when I’m in New York next year”.
Although my social calendar for next week is looking fairly bare – aside from catching up with my friend Yvette for dinner at Mohr Fish (she’s never been there before, despite living in Surry Hills for a number of years) – this week is fairly busy. As well as ABBAMANIA on Wednesday and Fruits in Suits on Thursday, I’ve been invited to a BBQ/Thingy on Friday night.
Hopefully, that leaves me enough time to actually be at home to enjoy my beautiful flowers. Mind you, outdoors at the moment there’s lots to enjoy also, especially the Jacarandas. Although I believe they’re actually a “pest” in the true sense of the word, they’re absolutely beautiful, and particularly noticeable around Victoria Barracks at the moment. Oh and the Jasmine… it’s out already, though not especially fragrant just yet.
