Kangaroo Karaoke

Michael

Tiger Champion
Nov 30, 2004
4,326
6
easy said:
Thank you Mick. I love it when you're in the audience.

ET, the grey rivers weren't Lloydy's dads, they were mine.
No problem though, I've got a few spare pairs
 

brigadiertiger

Tiger Champion
Dec 1, 2005
3,436
3
Endless Forms most Beautiful by Nightwish

Come on; hop on; let's take a ride
Come and meet the travelers who came to town
They have a tale from the past to tell
From the great dark between the stars

We are a special speck of dust
A fleeting moment on an ark
A celebration, a rest haven of life

Lay on a field of green with mother Eve
With father pine reaching high
Look at yourself in the eyes of aye-aye
Unfolding rendezvous

Deep into the past
Follow the aeon path
Greet a blade of grass
Every endless form most beautiful
Alive, aware, in awe
Before the grandeur of it all
Our floating pale blue ark
Of endless forms most beautiful

Beyond aeons we take a ride
Welcoming the shrew that survived
To see the Tiktaalik
Take her first walk; witness the birth of flight

Deeper down in Panthalassa
A eukaryote finds her way
We return to the very first one
Greet the one we’ll soon become

Lay on a field of green with mother Eve
With father by reaching high
Look at yourself in the eyes of aye-aye
Unfolding rendezvous

Deep into the past
The lonely eon path
Greet a blade of grass
Every endless form most beautiful

A life of wearing on
Before the grandeur of it all
Our floating pale blue ark
Of endless forms most beautiful

Deep into the past
The lonely eon path
Greet a blade of grass
Every endless form most beautiful

A life of wearing on
Before the grandeur of it all
Our floating pale blue ark
Of endless forms most beautiful

[youtube=560,315]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VUb1p8fm7Ag[/youtube]
 
E

easy_tiger

Guest
So im driving out the back of Drake. and theres this locked gate. I put a solid in the shotty and blasted it. and missed. I stuck the cruiser in low range and pushed the gate off its hinges. The chain kicked up and busted my window. I didnt care.

I was looking for a fishing hole on the Timbarra, but I came across this weird Tin Shack Shebeen thing. Ive seen a fair few hillbilly-type situations, but this was extraordinary. The joint seemed like it was breathing vapour moonshine. The barman was a goat skeleton in pyjamas. An unusual looking bloke with perfect dentition raised his jaw in a very subtle show of aggression, and goes to me "you want a drink black fella?"

and I go "nah, im right. Um, I dont suppose you have a karaoke machine?" feeling entirely vulnerable to the point beyond fear.

and teeths goes "yeah bro".

I was glad id restrung my coconut palm boardies with hay band. I was glad i was wearing the orange, corded beanie that nana had knitted. I was really glad I had my steel caps on. without socks.

My mood swung pretty dramatically. I felt like id gone from taylor hunt to jack reiwoldt in one up and down look from teeths

"any elvis?"

"yeah" . teeths was wrongfooted, so i drove home the advantage. 'how come ewes lock the *smile*ing gate?". I pulled a packet of dates out of my only pocket and ate a couple, chewing with my mouth wide open. Grinning a lumpy brown grin.

Treat me like a fool,
Treat me mean and cruel,
But love me.

Wring my faithful heart,
Tear it all apart,
But love me.

If you ever go,
Darling, I'll be oh so lonely
I'll be sad and blue,
Crying over you, dear only.

I would beg and steal
Just to feel your heart
Beatin' close to mine

Well, if you ever go,
Darling, I'll be oh so lonely
I'll be sad and blue,
Crying over you, dear only.

I would beg and steal
Just to feel your heart
Beatin' close to mine

Well, if you ever go,
Darling, I'll be oh so lonely
Beggin' on knees,
All I ask is please, please love me
Oh yeah

A lady in her 70's in an unshaved, wild boar-hide leather miniskirt whistled and whooped. Her eyes where disconcertingly far apart. Turned out I was in a New England polling booth. I took up the mike and retrospectively dedicated my number to Tony Windsor. A prickly pear fruit hit me on the ear as a severe dog fight erupted.
 
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easy_tiger

Guest
Theres this cafe near The Sorbonne that plays karaoke. I get talking to the bloke on the espresso machine and hes a really nice bloke. But I notice that when anyone orders, he runs to the cafe next door and comes back with your coffee. I want to ask him about it, but he seems like such a nice bloke. I dont want to hassle him. Hes kind of handsome and fit-looking, but theres something odd about him. His features look a bit calf-like, and theres track marks all up his arms. After I drink my coffee, which is great, I order another, and he runs next door again and comes back with my coffee. I notice a trophy on the coffee machine. I look closely at the engraving. It say 'Best Barista 2015'. The coffee is good.

'Cause im in Paris, i'm relatively dressed up. I have my new coconut palm boardies on and a nice sky blue t-shirt that matches my thongs.

'Hey mate, do you have any johnny farnham on karaoke?' I go
he goes 'I have no idea what we have on karaoke, they dont tell me what we have. I just play them'.
I thought this was pretty weird, but he seemed like a really nice bloke.
'Um, can you play some Farnham for me do you reckon?'

From the day that we were born we've been heading down a track
Sometimes it's made for good sometimes for bad
But if we look behind us there's a wave coming down
Carrying us forward to a new age

What about the world around us
How can we fail to see
And now that our fathers have gone
And we've been left to carry on
What about the age of reason

So why can't we be still why can't we love each other
Is kindness an ancient skill buried by our blindness
And if we look behind us there's a wind blowing in
To create the age of reason

If we consider carefully the options put before us
So much wisdom so much love so much waiting for us
And if we look ahead there's the sun and the seasons
Another day another age of reason


The bloke is looking at me really strangely. Im a bit over his whole weird nice-guy routine. I grab the trophy off the coffee machine and bolt out of his cafe, run into the joint next door, and plant it on their coffee machine. Theres another good looking bloke, with a quiff, behind it. He studies the trophy and gives me a grin.
 

eZyT

Tiger Legend
Jun 28, 2019
10,974
1,661
I sauntered into The Norman Hotel and ordered a schooner of XXXX Gold, after the barman got off his phone to his girlfriend.

'we only have Great Northern'

I grabbed him firmly by the Adam's apple and said

'well poor a fcuking stubby of gold into a schooner and jazz it up a little with some gas. and put 15ml of Bundy in there for being incompetent. I know its not your fault you were born after the millennium bug, but you still have certain obligations to those in the world'

to his credit, the kid decanted me a stubby, gave its a little blast and a half shot.

'and give me a walnut burger with barbecue sauce'

'um, we are actually brisbanes worst vegetarian restaurant sir, we dont have walnut burgers'

'I suppose you reckon Lachie Neale is a damaging player as well? We're not in ******* Northcote. Start start cracking some ******* walnuts son and make the burger. Do I look like im gonna pay $70 for a bit of of am old brahman bulls arse just cause you call it galaxy-hop-fed wagyu? Ive got No20 on my back for ***** sake. Where's the Karaoke machine?'

Just 'cause I ain't never ad, no,
Nothing worth having
Never ever, never ever
You ain't got no call not to think
I wouldn't fall
Into thinking that
I ain't too clever
And it ain't not having
One thing nor another
Neither, either is it anything, whatever
And it's not not knowing that
There ain't nothing showing
And I answer to the name
Of Shane, however
Just 'cause I ain't never said, no,
Nothing worth saying
Never ever, never ever, never ever
Things â??ave got read into what I never sad,
'Til me mouth becomes me â??ead
Which ain't not all that clever
And it's not not saying
One thing nor another
Neither, either is it anything
I haven't said, whatever
And it ain't not proving
That me mind ain't moving
And I answer to the name
Of Shane, however
Knock me down with a feather
Sha-ane Edwards
Widebrows wonder whether
Shane Edward's clever
Either have they got
Nor neither haven't not
Got no right to make a clot
Out ofShane
Why should I feel bad
About something I ain't â??ad
Such stupidness is mad
'Cause nothing underfoot
Comes to nothing less to add
To a load of old toot
And I ain't half not half
'Cause there's nowhere to put it
Even if I â??ad I'm a bit of a Jack the Lad
Knock me down with a feather
Sha-ane Edwards
Widebrows wonder whether
Shane Edward's clever
Either have they got
Nor neither haven't not
Got no right to make a clot
Out ofShane
Also, it takes much longer
To get up north, the slow way

Then I notice Daniel Rich in the corner, his sausage fingers clasping onto a tote ticket, staring.

'it wasn't your fault Daniel' I say.
 
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spook

It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue.
Jun 18, 2007
11,054
1,139
Ah, the KK thread! A howling home for lonely roamers to wail and rail and tell a tale.

In times of loss, I return to the source.

I walk into the clubrooms. God, it's been years. Some renos, a new bar, a flat screen tele where the old handball target once stood. The sticky, red, flattened, matted, shag pile's been ripped up. But it's still the same.

Dencorub mists of time.

Premiership flags on the walls.

We won the flag in under-17s. Where's the team photo?

There it is.

There he is.

There I am.

There we were.

"Spook? What are you doin' here?"

Emerging from the kitchen behind the bar, it's Garry. We never got on. He thought I was soft, too sensitive. I thought he was a bully meathead bogan.

"What do you reckon?"

I turn back to the photo. I don't give a **** what Garry thinks now. I'm gonna sing. A country classic, just like him. We used to love this one. All of us.

He looked down into her brown eyes
And said, "Say a prayer for me."
She threw her arms around him,
Whispered, "God will keep us free."

They could hear the riders comin',
He said, "This is my last fight.
If they take me back to Texas,
They won't take me back alive."

There were seven Spanish angels at the altar of the sun.
They were prayin' for the lovers in the valley of the gun.

When the battle stopped and the smoke cleared,
There was thunder from the throne,
And seven Spanish angels took another angel home.


Before I can start the next verse, I hear Garry, behind me. I turn, and watch him sing:

She reached down and picked the gun up
That lay smoking in his hand.
She said, "Father, please forgive me;
I can't make it without my man."

And she knew the gun was empty,
And she knew she could not win,
But her final prayer was answered
When the rifles fired again.

There were seven Spanish angels at the altar of the sun.
They were prayin' for the lovers in the valley of the gun.

When the battle stopped and the smoke cleared,
There was thunder from the throne,
And seven Spanish angels took another angel home.


I join back in and we sing it like we did, back then, with him:

There were seven Spanish angels at the altar of the sun.
They were prayin' for the lovers in the valley of the gun.

When the battle stopped and the smoke cleared,
There was thunder from the throne,
And seven Spanish angels took another angel home.


I turn to the wall, kiss my fingers and press them to the photo. To his face. Which is next to mine. It's also next to Garry's, our arms all draped around each other's shoulders. Young, happy. World-beaters.

Boys. Just boys.

Suddenly, I'm wrapped in a bear hug from behind, Garry's heaving sobs against my back and over my shoulder, his stubbled, tear-soaked cheek pressed against mine.

"******' hell, spook," he chokes.
"I know."
"Why?"
"I dunno."

Our divisions dissolve, united in love and grief and pain and regret and memories of then and now and always.

The spell breaks. So has the tension. Catharsis. Works wonders.

"We should probably-"
"Yeah."

We shuffle out. He locks the door.

"Good to see ya."
"Yep."

We shake hands, and I watch him walk to his F30 and drive away. I start the walk back to Dad's. I cross the ground, dig my fingers into the turf in the centre square, rub the earth into my palms, smell it.

I don't think I'll come back here again. But I'm glad I did.
 
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spook

It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue.
Jun 18, 2007
11,054
1,139
It's been a long, cold, **** of a winter in Batmania. Seasonal Affective Disorder chokes your pituitary gland, wrings the dopamine from your adrenals. I'm outta here...next year.

But it's spring now. It's ******* gorgeous. September in Port Phillip, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else for the next eight weeks. Blue sky from Warrnambool to Drouin. The first 'should I wear shorts day' in eons. Just enough of a breeze to wink its danger at you, remind you weather is kinetic. "Inside left goalpost," I mutter to a gust.

The tennis courts next to Croxton station are overgrown with weeds, and surrounded by safety fences. Been that way for a couple of months now.

You can't fit a cigarette paper between Northcote and Thornbury, but they somehow squeezed another train station in. As I cross the tracks I'm passed in the other direction by the short, slight, lithe, Indian man with the grey dreads who used to give kids lessons on these courts not so long ago. I'd sometimes see him serving balls on his lonesome. He doesn't look at me, but then he rarely does.

They've mowed the grass outside the station. Is there a better smell than cut grass on a warm, sunny, spring day? Maybe coffee. Various, alternate, versions of Her.

Erykah Badu: 60s Dreamgirl vocals, 70s funk basslines and 90s hip-hop attitude, in my ears. Yet I breathe the words:

Football's such a part of this whole town
And we know that you won't let us down


Soon I'm perusing organic fair trade goji berries. In Aldi. Northcote Plaza, where 1970s retail throwbacks meet modern franchise reality, and inner-north soccer mums on their way to pilates smack up against homeless guys in filthy tracksuit pants anchored to concrete. There's two Coles' here, because **** Woolies. There are two Vietnamese bakeries, but only one I get pork rolls at.

"Extra chilli, please."

I eat it on the walk home, binning the white paper bag outside Croxton station. I pick up a handful of cut grass, drying on top and moist underneath, and bring it to my nostrils. Eternal, a time machine in my palm. I could be seven.

I've had a song in my head for a week and a half. I need to sing it. To the Golden Wattle I'll one day extract DMT from. To the sky bluer than Tim Minchin's eyes. To the two-goal breeze at my back.

This is my Earth
And I live in it
It's one third dirt and two thirds water
And it rotates and revolves through space
At rather an impressive pace
And never even messes up my hair
And here's the really weird thing
The force created by its spin
Is the force that stops the chaos flooding in

This is my Earth
And it's fine
It's where I spend the vast majority of my time
It's not perfect, but it's mine
It's not perfect

This is my country
And I live in it
It's pretty big and nice to walk on
And the bloke who runs my country
Has built a demagoguery
And taught us to be fearful and boring
And the weirdest thing is that he is
Conservative of politics
But really rather radical of eyebrows

This is my country
And it's fine
It's where I spend the vast majority of my time
It's not perfect, but it's mine
It's not perfect

This is my house
And I live in it
It's made of cracks and photographs
We rent it off a guy who bought it from a guy
Who bought it from a guy
Whose granddad left it to him
And the weirdest thing is that this house
Has locks to keep the baddies out
But they're mostly used to lock ourselves in

This is my house
And it's fine
It's where I spend the vast majority of my time
It's not perfect, but it's mine
It's not perfect, but it's mine

This is my body
And I live in it
It's forty-six and eleven months old
It's changed a lot since it was new
It's done stuff it wasn't built to do
I often try to fill it up with wine
And the weirdest thing about it is
I spent so much time abusing it
But it never says a bad word about me

This is my body
And it's fine
It's where I spend the vast majority of my time
It's not perfect, but it's mine
It's not perfect

This is my brain
And I live in it
It's made of love and bad song lyrics
It's tucked away behind my eyes
Where all my ****** up thoughts can hide
Cause God forbid I hurt somebody
And the weirdest thing about a mind
Is that every answer that you find
Is the basis of a brand new cliche

This is my brain
And it's fine
It's where I spend the vast majority of my time
It's not perfect, but it's mine
It's not perfect, but it's mine
It's not perfect
I'm not quite sure I've worked out how to work it
It's not perfect, but it's mine.


I can't wait until tomorrow. Go you bloody Tigers.
 
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Tigers of Old

Twitter: @Tigers_of_Old
Jul 26, 2004
64,160
1,077
Aah the halcyon days of PRE rekindled. It's a good omen.

Nice work gentlemen.
 
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spook

It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue.
Jun 18, 2007
11,054
1,139
I just found this thread, and it is glorious
Not sure how you missed it, laz. There's a secret passageway direct from the clubhouse. Pull up a mic.
 
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Michael

Tiger Champion
Nov 30, 2004
4,326
6
"gees what are you doin' here?"

The gentleman in the navy suit and striped tie replied. “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. “

He placed a pot in front of me and rattled the ice in his tumbler of smokey liquid.

"Whisky?"

"Hardly, this is Scotch"

"Not a popular drink n here"

He glanced around the room. He looked down at polished Black RM's "Where is everyone?"

"You're a bit early"

"Glad I caught you alone. Got a bit of a bone to pick with you Mikey Boy"

"Yeh whats that Gill?"

"You've publicly denigrated the post grand final entertainment, the Commissions not happy and they've sent me to investigate."

"Hence the Sun Tzu"

"Something like that. I heard this place was a plethora of eclecticism and talent "

"Buy me another Pot, I'll be right back"

I fronted the stage, guzzled Gill's scotch. "This one's for the AFL Commissioners"

Sun is shining, the weather is sweet
Make you want to move your dancing feet
To the rescue, here I am
Want you to know ya, can you understand
When the morning gather the rainbow
Want you to know I'm a rainbow too
To the rescue here I am
Want you to know ya,
Can you, can you, can you understand
Sun is shining, the weather is sweet now
Make you want to move your dancing feet
To the rescue, here I am
Want you to know just if you can
Here I stand, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no
Can you understand me, now baby
Do you believe me?


Gill had another beer waiting for me. "Not bad, bit slow. I'm not sure our corporate sponsors could sing along"
 
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spook

It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue.
Jun 18, 2007
11,054
1,139
I didn't know her half as well as I wanted to.

I met her at Maeve Fox, friend of Brad's. Workmate. He fancied her, who wouldn't. Smart, funny, sexy, nerdy but cool. Great tits. Brad never had a chance. He's a teddy bear.

I had a chance. Immediate rapport, spark. Then, distrust in her eyes, the kind that says, "I could like you, and that's dangerous. For me."

Turned out she had a fella. Shacked up. Yet I never met him. Got on it a few times with her and Brad. She loved the powder. We had fun, then she would say something dismissive, or question my sincerity, to remind me: stay away.

The three of us ended up at her place one night. The bloke was in Bali, on holiday. Without her. She was giving me a hard time, but I didn't mind. I liked her, even if she did put me on the back foot occasionally.

"I'd like to get to know you sober," I said.
"Me too."

I said let's go see this Shakespeare thing. "Okay." She gave me her number. Or did I already have it? I can't remember. I remember the moments I would catch her with her guard down, without the big front this little girl presented - to the world but doubly to me. In those moments she was pure. Her love of music, her enthusiasm for the poetry of life. Her cynicism was that of the disappointed romantic.

"You guys can crash here if you like," she offered. Oh. It would have been on, the minute Brad fell asleep. She knew it, I knew, Brad knew it.
"C'mon, spook. Let's get an Uber," he said.

So, we went home. It was impossible that night. But I would call her.

Except, I didn't. She had a boyfriend. She lived with him. I'm not that guy. I have been, but I'm not. No. I wanted her to be available, for me.

Months went by. I moved. She moved too. I ran into her at Northcote Plaza. We made awkward small talk. She was single. I could tell.

This time I called her. Voicemail. I hung up.

"Who's this?" she texted. We agreed to have coffee, or a drink, when she got back from Perth in a couple of weeks. I suggested a play, but she had plans that Friday. I didn't suggest another night. I felt the walls were up. Maybe they were mine.

Got on the Griggs with Gyps one night. He's a lightweight so as usual I was last man standing. Felt like dancing. Found a club on High St I didn't know existed. Bought a beer, hit the floor. It's dark, maybe 20 people in there. It's late. I'm a good mover, and I have dance floor gravity: they come into my orbit. I sensed a woman, to my right. I looked at her, looking at me, smiling. It was her. We danced for a bit, then she sat down, so I followed her. We caught up, and in the space of a few minutes she told me both that she liked me and that I was sitting too close.

The lights came up. She got up and walked away from the exit - I thought to the toilet. I waited, but was ushered out. I waited outside, for 10 minutes or more. I called. No answer. Rejected again.

I put her in the too hard basket.

I saw her once more, at Northcote Plaza again, a few months ago. I was heading into Coles when she rushed past me.

"Natalie."

She was harried, seemed frazzled, in a rush, or anxious to avoid me. Turned, gestured "hi", indicated she couldn't stop.

"Go, go. Don't let me keep you."

Too hard.

All too hard, for her. Not just me. Everything. I saw Brad's post on Facebook the day of her funeral. It floored me.

You never know.

A couple of Greek guys in fluro were bulldozing the tennis courts next to Croxton station when I walked past the other day. Knocking down the small, graffitied old brick clubhouse or whatever it was. Tearing up the En-Tout-Cas surface. I crossed the tracks, past the Golden Wattle, and into a Southern Baptist church. Sometimes you need a soul choir. Today, I'm Sam Cooke, Otis Redding, Leon Bridges. I swear to god I'm black in some dimension.

Been travelling these wide roads
For so long
My heart's been far from you
Ten thousand miles gone

Oh, I wanna come near and give you
Every part of me
But there's blood on my hands
And my lips are unclean

In my darkness I remember
Momma's words reoccur to me
"Surrender to the good Lord
And he'll wipe your slate clean"

Take me to your river
I wanna go
Oh, go, take me to your river
I wanna know

Dip me in your smooth water
As I go in
As a man with many crimes, come up for air
As my sins flow down the Jordan

Oh, I wanna come near and give you
Every part of me
But there's blood on my hands
And my lips are unclean

Take me to your river
I wanna go
Oh, go, take me to your river
I wanna know

I wanna go, wanna go, wanna go
Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know
Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go
Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know
I wanna know, wanna know, wanna know
Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go
Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know
Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go
Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know

Hoo, oh, take me to your river
I wanna go
Lord, oh, please let me know
Take me to your river
I wanna know




I didn't know her half as well as I wanted to.
Goodbye, Natalie.
 
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