Basia Unleashed

Well it had to happen. I’m homesick. And it all started when I first sat at a pavement cafe on Norton Street in Leichhardt wondering why a particular Spanish establishment had moved to Sydney. Since then, I have been unable to shake off the feeling that I miss Spain. Maybe the answer is I don’t visit Norton Street again, with it’s bijou stores, open air European-style cafes and it’s yellow wedding cake architecture that so reminds me of someplace in Torrevieja. This is the heart of Sydney’s Little Italy and it has fast become a magnet for me, not because the cafes serve beer like they do at home and show World Cup matches night and day, but because it IS like home.

There is a lot in Spain I don’t want to go back to and a lot that I do. And ache to. For once I am at a loss as to know what to do about this. So in true Basia fashion, I won’t do a damn thing, except prevaricate until the very last minute…

Posted by Basia at 7:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

It wouldn’t be seemly to be in Australia and not write about spiders. Before I go any further, I would like to add that on my first visit to Australia, I was indeed bitten by a spider. We looked it up in a book going by the state of my three wounds which at first looked like mosquito bites but which then hardened into mini volcanoes that spewed out clear liquid. Nice. Attractive, too. Anyway, the said spider was declared to be a jumping spider, and lo! in the big book of spiders, there it was, described as being “kittenish”. I was not impressed.

Now I find there is something lurking outside in the garden. It’s the size of a cat and lurks in a web that could catch a German Shepherd. I kid you not. Apparently it “lives” there and “doesn’t bother anyone”. Well, it bothers me. Everytime I pass it, I wonder why I do not have a giant size can of hairspray in my hand, or any other kind of spider begone instrument.

I bet it knows now I don’t like it and is planning to move webs and “bother” me….

Posted by Basia at 9:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My friend Jonny has spent most of his adult life spotting groupies a mile off. Actually he can probably spot them coming from half a continent away. They almost ruined his life at one point. They all wanted to know him - but only because his brother was (and still is depending on your point of view) a very very VERY famous popstar. Even when he says his surname, a name that is automatically associated with this popstar, people still say, “Are you related to…..?”

Jonny’s mum told me she had learned the hard way many times over just why people make friends with you and eventually learned to recognise in people immediately whether they wanted to know her for who she is or for who her famous son is.

When I see this in people it makes me feel sick. Just wanting to get to know someone because of who they are or who they know. When I see it happen in people I know, it’s doubly a shock and it’s something that I cannot understand - but maybe because it is something that I would never do. Unlike Jonny and his family, I am a terrible judge of character because I can only see the good in people. But I’m learning, I’m learning….

Posted by Basia at 3:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Let me say from the get go that I do NOT approve of violence. In any shape or form. But call me a commie pinko liberal and I say give a man a second chance. Like Mark ‘Chopper’ Read. The subject of the movie Chopper starring Eric Bana. Well, at my second premiere of the Sydney Film Festival, did I or did I not meet Chopper? The real one?

Let me also call a spade a spade. A crim a crim and a man with a great story a man with a great story. For those who think otherwise, look away now.

Mark Chopper Read is the real deal. Johnny Boxer is the real deal. Men with a history that is both unattractive and yet compelling. Men that want to spend a day in a bar with you to see if they can shock you (coming from Belfast, lads, that’s kinda hard but still my eyes watered).

Charisma is charisma. Charm is charm. It’s hard to reconcile with the anti violence peace at any price streak in me but they don’t judge so why should I?

Me and Chopper have a date later this week. So more, later. This week,

Posted by Basia at 4:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

but you are the place, where all my thoughts go hiding

Some things you can’t forget about, no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you numb your brain with gin. Somehow I am going to try and make this piece as obscure as possible because you never know who might be reading and well it would be cool if all the suspects thought this was about them (and not because they are so vain) as opposed to the one saying ah buggering ha, I knew it! Does that sound vain? That I have more than one potential reading my nonsense? Yeah? Well yah boo sux, that’s the way it is.

because of you, I forget the smart ways to lie
because of you, I’m running out of reasons to cry

I’m sitting writing this overlooking some south Sydney trees. I thought of you all the way here on the plane from Auckland. I thought of you this morning when I had my first cup of coffee. I think about you more than you think I do, and I can’t say exactly what it is I think but sometimes it makes me cry a little - not because of anything you have done or haven’t done, but because of what I haven’t done and possibly will never do. Or say. To you.

But I can say it here because you don’t know for sure that it’s you I am talking about. I love you.

Posted by Basia at 6:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Except that’s not true…

Posted by Basia at 3:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)