Jack Jones and Band watching 101

On Friday night I made the trip to my hometown of Albury to see my childhood rockstar hero play. Jack Jones from Southern Sons. I became a fan of him when I was about nine. I'd seen him play in She Said Yes with Tania Doko and Karl Lewis supporting Darren Hayes in 2007. I'd never seen him live playing Southern Sons songs, but had dreamed about the day for 20 years. Jack Jones is now known by his real name Irwin Thomas.

He had two support acts - acoustic Robert Sedky and Neon City, a local Albury based band. Liam Dalby fronts Neon City, and knows my Mum through her work. I sat down to talk to him for a while and he is one of the loveliest people, so appreciative of music, and so humbled to play with Jack Jones. Neon City play original pop-rock songs - great lyrics with an energetic sound. They received a lot of local support with friends coming out to see them play.

Jack Jones played several classic Southern Sons hits - all beautiful acoustic versions - Always and Ever, You Were There, Hold Me in Your Arms and Heart in Danger. He also played the Beatles' Blackbird and the Bee Jees' I Started a Joke. His vocals are still very John Farnham-esque, but he has such a broad range - tender and roaring. And he is such a fine skilled guitarist. It was a short setlist - I definitely wanted more, especially Southern Sons songs.

Before the show he said hi - my Mum showed him my Southern Sons tshirt that was once down to my ankles, now down to my knees. Remember I showed you all a picture of me wearing the Southern Sons tee last year.

And I assured him his autograph is still on the back of my toilet door with Savage Garden and Silverchair. He said he'd chat to me after the show. And he kept his promise, posing for several photos, and putting my card in his wallet - I took a photo to prove it!

Kiss was playing by the DJ, and I said 'let's stick out our tongues' and so we did!!

Seeing him live was a bit of a dream come true - I am glad I could see him in such a small setting and meet him too.

One of the things that really annoyed me about the night was the disruptive and unappreciative audience (or lack of). Maybe it's a country thing - not many bands go to Albury so audiences don't know how to behave? And my observations of this poor audience directed me to draw up this guide. Band watching 101.

If you're there to see the band, show some respect and appreciation. If you're not there to see the band, do the same.

Don't block the view of the audience by walking between them and the band and holding your hands up for a 'look at me' moment, or by your bad dancing or god forbid, dirty dancing with strangers (I saw you kiss that other drunk girl before). If you must dance, dance to the side of or behind the audience.

Don't talk with your friends. The band playing means you raise your voice, and I don't want to hear about your boring day when I am watching a singer I've waited 20 years for. This is not your living room.

Don't request to sing or dance with the singer on stage. You have probably not sold as many albums as the singer, and I am sure if you can sing or dance well, I would have had the chance to see you on one of those talent shows that compromises peoples' integrity. This isn't the time to be known as the random drunk woman who attempted to do a duet with a big time rock star. And when that big time rock star refuses your company on stage, don't get pouty or get shouty.

Don't get more excited at hearing Jesse's Girl/Moves Like Jagger spun by the DJ than the band who is actually in the room, playing real live music. This isn't your second cousin's wedding.

Don't tell the singer he's boring the shit out of you. Really. Don't. If you don't want to be there, leave. Don't spoil it for the singer and the audience. Show some respect.

That really happened, and so did the other things I listed. Irwin Thomas handled the rude woman really well, suggesting she might want to get a vibrator - the final song was OhMiBod I'm in love with you - one he made for a vibrator.

What are your Band watching 101 rules?

On falling (in like)

I fall in love too easily. Well, it's not even love, just a small amount of liking above the friendship level. The type where you get excited about an incoming text message. Yes, I think that's my current level of falling. Text message related. The type where even the strangest compliment can make you feel special. And it seems the way I fall is through conversation.

I always seem to love a boy more than they've loved me. Unless I've got some secret admirers out there, in which case I invite them to make themselves known. A proverb I once read said to always marry someone who loves you more than you love them. I can't recall who said this, but thinking back now, I may have read it in an interview with a Hollywood starlet in a trashy magazine. Darren Hayes, my own romantic prophet, once sang 'it is easier to give than receive love'. Agreed. It is easier to give than receive love. How do you make someone love you?

In my 28 years I've truly loved three boys. Seven boys if you count my unrealistic obsession love for Jack Jones, Shane Warne, Darren Hayes and Callan Mulvey. (And if you throw Hamish Blake into the mix, that is eight.) Two boys if you take away the one I felt unrequited love for over about three years. That leaves two relationships (if you can call them that) where (I think) there was reciprocal love. I didn't feel love in my other two relationships (or maybe it was only one – one could be classified as 'seeing someone', the other was seven months spent by the both of us trying to get a word in edgeways – we both had a lot to say). And there you go, I've just done some very complicated maths about the boys in my life. Maths was never my strong point, and nor is love.

It's strange because my life was going along pretty well. I didn't think I needed love. Ok, truthfully, I was always guy spotting. And I see friends and strangers in secure, loving relationships and know that I want that for myself. But I have resigned myself to the fact that I probably will be a catless spinster. (Maybe I'll have a dog if I ever own my own home and have enough time to devote to it.) Because it's really hard finding someone who can accept the way I look. And I think I'm mostly happy with that. Maybe happy is the wrong word. Accepting of that, then. Because I got family, friends, work, life outside work, and education and lots of interests. (Secretly I hope once I'm on Channel 31 I will get some fan mail from men asking me to be their wife – ok, so it's not such a far-fetched idea...is it?)

When someone came into my life, only last week, and I discover we have things in common, he can make me laugh, and make me feel special, my tummy does butterflies. I haven't felt this comfortable talking to someone in years. I feel like I can tell him anything. And he said I'm pretty awesome to talk to. And then, on the flipside, something else is said, and life feels mopey. Even though all those other great things I've mentioned are still there. It's odd how life can be going along pretty well and then you feel these spectrum of emotions because of one person. Life goes from the soundtrack to Love Actually to some ironed fringed, fingerless glove and black tshirt wearing emo song.

I rarely receive any signals from people showing interest. The last text message that I received that I felt the need to keep forever was 'there's a Carly in my mind stealing my heart', and that was six years ago, back when I had a simple Nokia. A little after that, there was this weird situation, which deserves a blog entry of its own, where someone sent me a picture of his penis. That was showing interest, I guess...

So this week, when I received a text message with quite direct words expressing feelings towards me, I workshopped it with girlfriends, thinking maybe the words were true. There was some excitement brewing, and I held out hope. And then I decided that he's probably just not that into me, because that's how it always is. And now I guess he's just not that into me.

It's like one day everything is going along fine, the next day you can't stop thinking about someone, and wham, life gets complicated.

Maybe the reason I don't often write about romance on this blog (other than there not being any to report on) is so I don't jinx myself. So I don't share my feelings with the world and open myself up to heartbreak.

It's probably because I'm currently really sore that I'm feeling this introspective. I marvel at how I can be in control, calm, sensible and professional, and then turn into a forlorn girl at the drop of a hat. I was talking to a friend about this and we both agree the best way to feel good about ourselves in times like these is to fawn over pictures of us with our celebrity loves. She said 'keep looking at the Rush cast pictures and remember your prince is out there somewhere'. I hope so.

Post script, heard when watching Rush:

‎'I suppose that's half the battle right? Finding someone that is into you' - Stella and Michael from Rush. Too true.

Back in the day...

I received an award-type quiz meme from Hayley, Shinxy and Todd. (They all contribute to the great Ability in Disability blog, too.) It was the same quiz from all of them - 10 things about me. It was nice to learn more about them through their answers. But I have a bit of aversion to these 'awards' because I think sometimes they clog up blogs, and become uninteresting and repetitive. And that is the last thing I want my blog to become. But I was really inspired by the way Hayley wrote hers. It read like a beautiful memoir of a great childhood. And made me want to write. I haven't done any overly inspiring blog entries lately.

So here goes. 10 things I remember from back in the day...

When I was about seven, or the year Itty Bitty Bins were en-vogue, whenever that was, my Dad found a dead mouse in the shed. He showed it to me and threw it out on the garden for a bird to take. I secretly collected it, and put it in this purple Itty Bitty Bin and then buried it in the shell garden in the front yard. (A shell garden was a little square of dirt covered with shells that I collected from holidays at the seaside.) Now back then, I had so few friends, but I'd invite kids over on the way back from school and show them this decomposing mouse body. A dead mouse was not a way to make friends. The kids that I wasn't friends with would keep their broken coloured pencil leads in Itty Bitty Bins. I kept a dead mouse in mine! To this day I never know why I did it. I can't stand mice, but I guess that a dead mouse is not a threat. And I can't believe I wasted an Itty Bitty Bin on this. That was probably not a good story to start off with. Anyhow.

I used to belong to a church youth group in primary school. I guess it was a way of getting me to meet people, to make friends. I think there were a few nights where I went for dinner at the church hall. I remember disagreeing with most things they preached. They would say to me that anyone that drank alcohol was a bad person. They also told me that if I was living in Jesus times, I would have been classed as a leper and that people wouldn't want to come near me because of my skin. I was told I have a genetic chronic illness because I am not baptised. I was smart enough to know that genetic disposition is not determined by a priest sloshing a bit of water on your forehead (plus I was born like this, and as far as I know, baptism is not in the womb). And I was so averse to cold water as a kid that I doubt that I'd have gone ahead with baptism even if I had a strong faith. When I went home and told my Mum the things they said at the youth group, she took me out of it. I was glad for it. I didn't want anyone telling me how to think, especially not these small-minded views. Other than for funerals and weddings, I choose not to go to church.

Dad and I used to make 'cheeses' out of playdough. They were round and smooth, and Dad used to tell me the names of different cheeses as we shaped them. Gloustershire. Leistershire. Stilton. Brie. I loved this. Last year this time, we went to Tasmania and visited the Bruny Island Cheese Company. We bought lots of cheese. The cheese in the storeroom (see below) looked like giant versions of the cheeses Dad and I made. Except their cheeses weren't bright blue!

When I was four, Mum's relative came from South Africa with her son. I couldn't pronounce her son's name right. They stayed for about a week. The only memory I have about this visit was that her son ate my playdough. Mum would put Dettol in it to protect me from infections. And it was salty. Still, he ate it.

I have had genetic testing done. I am sure it involved a needle, and I'm sure I freaked out about it. But the thing I remembered most about the genetic testing is that they shoved a giant cotton bud so far up my nose that I am sure it touched my brain. It hurt like hell.

I really want to revisit playing with Lego Fabuland. I spoke about this to Danielle the other day. I had the BEST Lego Fabuland set. It was a flour mill with a slide that the characters would go down.

The imagination used when playing with lego was incredible. I know I am 28, but I crave a good play with Lego. Who's in?

I developed a celebrity crush early. I was nine, and my babysitter loved a band called Southern Sons. She brought over video tapes of Rage. I was suddenly a fanatic. I loved all things Southern Sons and thought I'd marry Jack Jones (now known by his real name, Irwin Thomas). I wrote to Jack Jones and told him EVERYTHING about me. Including that I liked lasagne and Tim Tams. The fan-club sent me an autographed photo back, which is stuck on the back of my toilet door with other rock royalty.

You may recall this gem from Southern Sons.

Hold me in Your Arms. Sigh. He sounded like a youthful John Farnham. I remember my Dad saying, in all seriousness 'I can't get over how much this guy sounds like Farnham'. We were watching Southern Sons on VHS. I used to watch it a lot. Mum's friend (my friend) bought me a Southern Sons t-shirt for my 10th birthday. It was down to my ankles then. This is what it looks like now. It's a great mini dress.

I met Jack Jones/Irwin Thomas in 2007 after I pretty much jumped up on stage and hugged him at the Darren Hayes concert. He was also on my plane to Brisbane the next day and we chatted a bit on the plane and at the airport in Brisbane. He was a really nice guy, and called me darling. Squeeee! To say I was beside myself is an understatement. We are actually Facebook friends now!

When I was 12, my parents and I went to a dinner party at a friend's house. We all told jokes around the table. I was a pretty advanced reader back then. Dad had let me read his 'Best Jokes of All Time' book. I proudly remembered one. The joke contained a word that rhymes with 'stunt'. The room went silent. My parents had me out of the dinner party quicker than you could say 'wash your mouth out'. And they were pretty quiet with me the next day. I had a really thick Macquarie dictionary and I consulted it to see what 'stunt' meant. I didn't actually know the meaning of it when I told the joke. And thanks to the Macquarie dictionary, I realised why my parents were so embarrassed by my joke...

Ok, it may be eight, nearing on nine... back in the day, I was never good at maths, and still aren't.