ENCORE PERFORMANCE….

 

    David Gulpilil

                                                        Aboriginal Stockman

(Poems, sketches and acrylic painting by me)

 

I’ve posted these poems, the painting and the sketches previously, but decided to do so again.

 

My inspiration for this post is the sad passing of David Gulpilil, the pioneering Australian Indigenous actor, dancer, singer and artist who, at the age of 68 years,  passed away on 29^th November, 2021.

To quote Wikipedia….

Quote:   “David Gulpilil Ridjimiraril Dalaithngu AM (c.1953 – 29 November 2021), known professionally as David Gulpilil and posthumously for cultural reasons as David Dalaithngu for three days, was an Australian actor and dancer, known for the films “Walkabout”, “Storm Boy”, “Rabbit-Proof Fence”, “Crocodile Dundee”, “The Tracker”, and others.

David was an Aboriginal Australian of the Yolngu people who was raised in a traditional lifestyle in Arnhem Land in northern Australia, and was a skilled dancer as a young man when British director Nicolas Roeg recognised his talent….”   End Quote

 

David Gulpilil Dalaithngu held his head high, and was respected far and wide.  Our nation pays tribute to him.

 

The Stockman

The stockman's face glistens under the torrid outback sun
Weather-beaten wiry and worn his teeth tobacco stained
Alone he rode o'er the dusty dry land his day never done
His love of the vast brown land remains forever ingrained

Parched by day the unforgiving copper luminary beyond
Unrelenting in its punishment upon all that wander below
As if obeying the devil's command eagerly it does respond
Silence is broken by bellowing cattle and the call of a crow

Outback Track

He wandered along an outback track unknown
With his swag and billy he wandered alone
Sun-bleached hair skin of leather lean and robust
Sheltering his eyes from the swirling red dust

Through a shimmering haze he spotted a dry creek
As nightfall drew close the outcome looked bleak
Taking long strides determinedly he pushed on
Until he spied dancing brolgas beside a billabong

 

Impatient sun rises o’er far horizon a new day dawns

The lone swagman stokes his campfire stretches yawns

His destination lies at the end of a meandering track ahead

What’s waiting there fills him with pain sorrow and dread

BLOWIN’ IN THE WIND…

 

 

 

I hear tell there was a lot of hot air floating around at the Glasgow Climate Summit a few weeks ago when old Joe “Bidin’-His-Time” Biden met up with Camilla, Charlie’s other half.  What a blast!  It’s reported he left a lasting impression.  Having missed out on the explosive history-making moment, Charlie must have been off in a corner upwind somewhere, out of sight, away from the draft, sneaking a wee dram or two of Scotch, leaving Camilla to cop the thundering blow on her own.

At least, the poor old cattle were let off the hook for a change.  For once they were not held responsible for the increase in methane emissions.  The cows and bulls were grazing around on the bonnie green banks of Loch Lomond trying/failing to disguise their giggles, relieved and glad the blame had been lifted from their shoulders.

Who knows…perhaps, prior to the Summit, Joe Blow had been biding his time in Chicago, the Windy City, and had learned as few tricks in how to entertain the crowd.

Not sure which way the wind was blowing, shaking her head, Greta What’s-Her-Name, humorlessly, as is her wont, declared all the hot air floating about proved she was right as always (or as she always believes)…“blah-blah-blah”…yada, yada, yada.  Turning away in disgust, Greta was terrified if she smiled the wind would change at that very minute, and she’d be stuck with a smile on her face, and that would never do, would it?

The little Swedish blowhard believes it was appropriate Bob Dylan received the Nobel Prize in Literature, the Swedish literature prize that’s awarded annually.  The excellent, informative documentary “Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese” certainly would’ve helped in making the decision as would, of course, “Blowin’ in the Wind”.  The brilliant documentary is suggested viewing, in my opinion. 

As expected, already I’ve watched the documentary twice.  How could I not? Dylan played an integral part in my teenage and early adulthood years.  However, I didn’t always abide by his advice.  For instance… “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right “.  Times were a-changing.  Just like a woman, I believed further thought was necessary. There were times, finding shelter from the storm was important, too. 

Ageless Rod Stewart, with his new song, “One More Time”, could be suggesting I watch the Rolling Thunder Revue doco again.  Stewart’s lively performance on “The Graham Norton Show” made me want to watch the Highgate lad’s highly enjoyable segment more than once.  So, of course, I did.  At time of writing I’ve lost count the number of times I’ve watched it. Just as I can guarantee Christmas is around the corner, I can guarantee the number of viewings will multiply.  Rod’s mischievous nature, cheeky glint in his eyes, and wild, unruly hair are impossible to ignore. His agility for a person of his age is to be admired and envied.  I certainly couldn’t match it, although I couldn’t help moving along with him, my way these days, while I watched him sing and swing in his latest performance.

Once upon a time, in years of yore, I was a permanent fixture up rocking on the dance floor, whatever, whichever floor…wherever the floor may have been…when the music began rolling.  Oh! How I loved to dance…and dance I did!

Each time I listen to Roderick David Stewart’s new single, the urge takes hold; the years disappear, proving one more time is not enough, and age is just a number…no matter the number.

It’s like that when it comes to chocolate, isn’t it?  Just one more bit… just one more…and another.  Wow! Have you noticed they’re making chocolate blocks smaller these days?   

 

Colourful Chocolate Truffles: Melt 3c semi-sweet choc chips, 400g condensed milk, and 1tbs vanilla until smooth. Chill choc mixture 1hr until slightly firm. Portion mixture using a two teaspoon measure scoop to keep truffles even in size; fold into balls; then roll in Hundreds & Thousands to coat. Place on paper-lined baking sheet; chill hour or so to set.

Chocolate Christmas Pudding: Mix 150g S.R. flour, 3  eggs, 175g butter, 175g sugar, 30g cocoa, 1tsp baking powder, 1tsp vanilla, and 50g melted dark chocolate together in a metal bowl. Bake in oven 45mins at 170°C. Release cake from mould upside down; coat in a layer of chocolate hazelnut spread. Using 3 large packets of Maltesers, cover whole cake with them. Melt 400g white chocolate; pour over top of cake, letting it drip down the sides. Place 2 mint leaves on top and 3 glacé cherries; serve in slices.

Christmas Brownies: Preheat oven 180C; line 30x20cm tin with baking paper. Gently heat 30ml brandy; add 100g dried cranberries; leave to soak. Melt 300g dark chocolate and 200g butter in a bowl over pan of simmering water. Stir gently until smooth; set aside to cool slightly. In bowl, whisk together 4 eggs and 300g muscovado sugar until pale and fluffy. Whisk the chocolate and butter mix into the eggs; gently fold in 200g plain flour, 1tsp mixed spice, 100g roughly-chopped pecans, cranberries and brandy until fully incorporated. Pour into prepared tin; smooth surface; bake for 25-30mins, or until the brownie is firm to the touch. Leave to cool in tin for 10 minutes; then place on a wire rack until cooled completely. Once cool, cut into squares and dust the tops with icing sugar. 

 

I YAM WHAT I AM...LET IT BE!

 

 

 

 

Often it gets to the stage I need to reaffirm what I already know…and don’t know… to reach the realisation what is, is.  Facing the facts…I yam what I yam…let it be…

At the age I am now what’s the point of changing, anyway?  Only capable of being me, my own true self and I, trying to change would be a pointless endeavour.  I know there are some who would disagree with me.  However, that is how I feel…and only I feel how I feel…if you understand my meaning.

Who would I become and, who would I be trying to impress?  Attempting to impress others is a pointless exercise, in my opinion.  Accept me as I am, for who I am…or move along.  There’s nothing to see here.   A boring, old….am I! You can fill in the blanks as you see fit. I shan’t be offended.  The reality is, only I know who I am.  So be it…there is the answer, let it be.

A while back I wrote about watching movies and TV series, and reading books more than once.  I jumped for joy when “Dexter; New Blood”, the new season that has begun on Paramount Plus.    Without hesitation, I immediately subscribed to Paramount+.  I had to meet up with my old mate again!  It’s been eight years since “Dexter” left our screens.  I welcomed him back with open arms, and once again I’m hooked, after just one episode.  In bingeing mode, I’ve begun re-watching the original series.  So far I’m into Season 2…with still another six seasons to follow.  And yes…I am enjoying it as much as I did the first time around…if not even more.

Proving how boring and predictable I am, a few Sunday afternoons ago “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” was again on TV.  For old times’ sake I intended watching only a couple of minutes of the movie I’ve seen numerous times. Two or so hours later, there I was still glued to the screen, tears streaming down my cheeks, as they always have done in past viewings. The final scene with Holly, Paul, and beautiful Cat in the drenching rain always gets me…nothing changes…

My initial introduction to Holly Golightly and Cat was in early 1963.  Back then, I, too, had a beautiful ginger cat, named, “Cat”.   My first viewing of the movie was one Saturday evening in Brisbane. Gympie was my hometown at the time. I’d travelled to the “Big Smoke” to spend the weekend at a friend’s place in Ashgrove.  It was love at first sight (for the movie). Being the person I am, the feeling hasn’t diminished…and isn’t likely to change. This I know for a fact, as if it were engraved on a Tiffany’s ring. Each time I hear “Moon River” tears make their presence known.  Yep!  I yam what I yam!  I can’t help it!  Let it be….

Among my treasured mementos I have a silver key holder and silver telephone dialer, both from Tiffany’s, 727 5th Avenue and East 57th Street, Manhattan.  Gifted to me they were from a special person, who, although, no longer with us, will always remain special to me.  It is Randall, my ex-husband, to whom I refer. I’ve mentioned previously that Randall spent nigh on a decade living and working in New York City from the mid-60s to the mid-70s before he returned home to our wonderful Land of Oz.  (Dorothy had nothing to do with it, nor did Toto, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion, or Scarecrow. I admit there are times I could be mistaken for the Wicked Witch from the West…and for Scarecrow).

 Of course, it’s a laid-down open misère…it really should go without saying, but I here I go, anyway…I’ll watch “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” again; no doubt more than once again…because it’s what I yam!  Doing so hurts no others.  Does it matter in the whole scheme of things if I do?  A clue…the movie is permanently on my recorded list, too. Truman Capote didn’t know what he started when he wrote the novella upon which the movie is loosely-adapted. Years ago I read the novella…twice.  The book is here somewhere among my paper tomes. Perhaps, seeing I yam what I yam I should dig it out, and read it again.

Because of events beyond my control of late…the evil work of hackers…in the words of Holly Golightly, I’ve had a massive dose of the “mean reds”, with anxiety levels beyond the moon.  Eventually I’ll dig my way out…because I yam what I yam. In the meanwhile, I’m weary of being told to breathe.  I’ve been breathing for many years; through good times and bad, and all those in between; onward through the years as I’ve attempted to reach adulthood.  Maybe, I’ll achieve the later one day.   So be it…I yam what I yam…let it be…

 

Sweet Potato Fritters with Avocado Dipping Sauce: In a medium bowl, mix together 2 cups grated raw sweet potato, 2 eggs, 1/2c Panko breadcrumbs, 1/4c flour, 1/4c grated Parmesan, 2tsp oregano, and 1/2tsp garlic salt, until well combined. Form mixture into 2-inch patties…total of 8 patties. In large pan, heat thin layer of oil over med-heat. When hot, cook fritters, 3-4mins per side. Serve with Avocado Dipping Sauce; Place ½ large avocado, 1/4c plain Greek yoghurt, 10 roughly-chopped basil leaves and salt in blender; blend on med-low until smooth.

Parmesan-Garlic Sweet Potatoes: Preheat oven, 200C. Line baking sheet with baking paper. Cut ends off 2 large sweet potatoes; slice into rounds. In bowl combine 1c grated Parmesan,  1/2tsp freshly cracked black pepper, 1tsp salt, 1tbs minced garlic and 1tbs Italian seasoning.  Arrange sweet potato slices on baking sheet, slightly overlapping. Brush with melted butter; sprinkle the parmesan mixture over; roast for 25mins.  Meanwhile, cook 4 bacon rashes until crispy; drain; cut into small bits. Remove sweet pots from oven; sprinkle with bacon bits and freshly chopped parsley or chives. Serve immediately with grilled steak.

Sweet Potato Pizza: Crust: Pulse 1 sweet potato, some rolled oats, 1 egg, salt and pepper; add a few dried herbs, of choice, and garlic powder/fresh garlic, and/or a little Parmesan, if desired. Press mixture onto pan; bake. Then top with bbq sauce, shredded cooked chicken, thinly sliced red onion, thin capsicum rings, 1c Mozzarella; cook in 200C oven, 10-15mins. 

 

STOP THE WORLD...I WANT TO GET OFF!

 

Happy Birthday  to Remy and Shama

 

If, at the age of 90 William Shatner can do it, so, too, can I at the age I am! 

However, I want to go further afield than he did...to soar off into space for longer than 10 minutes...off to another planet, with my two furry besties a travel buddies.   I’m sure there’s a planet, somewhere out they in the galaxy beyond, more pleasant to live in than this one is at present. 

The behaviour of many inhuman humans does not impress me one little bit.   

For instance, the behaviour of low-life scum...the hackers who have not an ounce of decency, respect, or dignity...the worthless predators pretending to be from NBN (National Broadband Network for those in the Northern Hemisphere who would be unaware) who infiltrate the privacy and computers of others. 

These wastes-of-space invaded my privacy and computer the week before last...and I came out the loser.  I am hoping the situation will be rectified and I will be recompensed, but I am not holding my breath.

Anxiety, a nervous breakdown and a heart attack I do not need.  I WILL NOT allow those arse-holes to have the power over me.  They are worthless pieces of shit.  I make no apologies for my description of them.  I’m being a polite as I can be on this open forum.  In private, I am not as polite, I can assure you!

Each and every one of us has to be on high alert at all times. There are predators out there...and we, the decent people, are their prey.

I’ll let you know when I board the spaceship with Major Tom at the controls.   

There are some, I’m sure, who will be glad to see the back of me!  Take the other day, for instance...

There I was doing what I believe I do best...minding my own business...keeping to my own self; being the hermit I choose to be, and enjoy being...doing battle with a cryptic crossword.  Just as it appeared I was going to be the conqueror, a loud pounding on the door disturbed not only me, but the peace, the ever-present birds, and my two furry roomies.  

By the way, of most importance....

"Happy Birthday to my two feline mates, who turned 19 on 4^th November - they’re almost as old as me!”   

They are the loves of my life...I would be lost without them.

To the knocking on my door I responded in equal loudness to inform whoever was doing the pounding I was on my hobbling way.  To my surprise upon opening the door there stood two of our finest gentlemen in blue, their beaming smiles lighting up the day. Much to their surprise, like an apparition, there appeared I.  Having not expected visitors, let alone the cops, my teeth were nestled in their container on my bedside table where they spend most of their time when I’m alone, which is most of my time.  The tattered, old slacks I wore have seen far better days (I should toss them into the rubbish bin.  In my defence, they’re very comfortable).  My top was a garish mismatch to the slacks.  My hair was an ungodly mess.  I had been lounging on the bed doing cryptic crosswords, a pastime that didn’t require dressing up in my Sunday, or any day, best.  No fashion plate was I...not a contender for the cover of Vogue magazine!  Oh! Well!  It’s not the first time...and it won’t be the last.

The sight of me was enough to scare the living bejeezus out of Dracula, Frankenstein, Hannibal Lecter and Freddy Krueger combined!  Hey!  I even scare the living daylights out my own self when I look in the mirror.  That’s why I gave up doing so years ago.  I hope no one arrives, unheralded today...even without glancing in a mirror, I know my appearance would inspire Stephen King to pen another book.  In anticipation, Wes Craven and John Carpenter would be fighting over the rights to direct the movie version; and, from above, out there in the galaxy beyond, Alfred Hitchcock would be adding his tuppence worth.

The cops informed me that a prowler had been reported as being seen prowling around this little lane in the wee small hours of that particular morning.  Another idiot roams free!!!  If I’d spotted him he would have been a headless idiot and I informed my visitors of that fact...to which they replied, still with beaming smiles, “Good on you, Lee!”

If I’d gone out into the street in my dishevelled garb and appearance I’d have been easily mistaken for one of the participating scarecrows during our local Scarecrow Festival.  I would also have been a perfect candidate for Halloween.   Pity the poor kids if any had seen me!  They’d still be running far beyond the distant horizon screaming their little lungs out.

On a far more serious note...be aware...take care, folks.  There are too many in this world who are not worthy of the title “human”.  Those who believe what is yours, is theirs.  For example, the lowlife wastes-of-space hacker leeches who pretend to be from NBN....

 

Out of This World Sandwich: To make the meatballs: place 100g chicken mince, a handful of chopped spinach, ½ crushed garlic clove, 1/4tsp oregano, 1tbs panko breadcrumbs and 1tbs crumbled feta in bowl; season. Mix gently until well combined. Shape into 2 even-sized balls; flatten slightly. Heat pan over med-heat; spray lightly with oil spray. Cook chicken 6-8mins or until golden brown and cooked through, turning occasionally. Remove from heat; set aside to rest. To make tzatziki: Place 500g Greek yoghurt, 2cm piece cucumber, grated, lemon juice to taste, ½ garlic clove, crushed, and 1/2tsp finely chopped dill or parsley in a small bowl; season; mix well. To make the salad: Place 4 halved cherry tomatoes, ½ diced Lebanese cucumber, ¼ finely diced red onion and ¼ yellow capsicum, diced, in a bowl; toss gently to combine. To serve; stuff one half of pita bread with small handful of spinach leaves, the salad and the chicken meatballs. Drizzle over the tzatziki.  Enjoy!

Yummy Burritos: Toss 2c raw chopped cucumber, tomatoes, onion, capsicum, 1/2c corn kernels and 1/2c grated cabbage and carrots in bowl; season with salt, pepper and 1/4tsp oregano. You can make your own wraps if you’re feeling industrious, or if, like me, you’re lazy, heat burrito wrap; place 1 hot burrito on plate; apply tom sauce, mustard sauce, and cheese spread. Place one hot burrito on plate; spread a spoonful of hot red kidney beans in centre; put two spoons of salad mixture on it.  Spread over some more mustard sauce; roll up...and enjoy this, too!