I bought a Mikado. We get the keys to our new place today. I haven’t packed much. We bought a washing machine. We are going to buy a lounge suite. Domesticity is not what I expected.

It’s true.

I dream about serial killers and gardens and the flow of life.

For some reason I can’t link to photos through Wordpress at the moment, so here is a direct link to purple potatoes, the highlight of my life and yours. https://secure.diggersgardenclub.com.au/images/PRODUCT/medium/TSAP.jpg

I bought a small table that is brown and beautiful and squiggly. I like squiggly furniture. I want a daybed but don’t think we have the space on the balcony, especially not with my large head full of grand designs taking up so much space.

Vanessa advised me on some indoor plants. Dracaenas / happy plants were advised. I like zebra plants and peace lilies. My paternal grandmother has a large peace lily plant and mother-in-law tongue plant and a plant that has a similar flower to a bird of paradise plant.

I am starting out small. Don’t worry.

I think about people I had long conversations with and short ‘affairs’ with. People seem so needy until they find what they demanded from you in another person and you’re no longer important to them, despite undemanded assurances from them that they would never forget about you, never leave you, never meet you in the guise of another person. I loved them all, like lost penpals and childhood friends. I find myself thinking more about people who warned me that they would linger only momentarily, shading me with their insecurities and anger and in some cases, pride because of their black wool. I think about a person I met when I was eighteen and unsullied, optimistic and very, very achingly alive. He seemed ageless, broken beyond his nineteen years. He was millions of years old and I wanted to catch up to him. He had lived. I hadn’t begun. At least it felt like that. He amazed me, so I let him ruin me. Nights spent waiting for him to arrive with his cigarettes and strange words, days spent with unknowing friends who knew everything else about me. They did not approve of his lifestyle and thoughts. Secrets for the first time in my life just for me and him, dark. Darkness was what I needed to catch up to him. I was not his type, he reminded me while counting my ribs and biting my neck. He could do better than me, he reminded me in the middle of beautiful conversations. He would leave me, he reminded me seconds from sleep. I could pretend it wasn’t true at that moments.  He left without apology or farewell, a shrug of the shoulders when I saw him weeks later. I guess we were never friends. What did he owe me? No explanation. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia, which was hereditary and probably also drug-induced. I saw him three years later and he stood over me again. His mother remembered me. I saw him four years later and he looked at me with revulsion and horror and disgust. He said ‘No’ and spat at me with his dark dark dark dark dark eyes. He haunts me. His cruelty and mouth and darkness wasted and ruined and killed me. He knows I let him. I sicken him. It is pointless trying to explain to friends. It was just a two hundred and eighty-six night stand. My friends would think ‘This old shit. It was so long ago. It wasn’t  important.’ I have not felt the same since him. I do not want darkness. I do not want to have ‘lived’ in the manner he taught. He is the heckler in my audience. I can never redeem myself. That is all I want to talk about.

I like Amy Sedaris and cooking.

Eight Favourite Things Proving My Dullardry

1. Garden dreams.

I have been reading about suitable balcony garden and indoor plants for weeks now, and I am about to shop online for some seeds from Digger’s and/or Yates. Digger’s has this guy on most pages. His name is Clive. He looks gentle.

I am quite excited and want a little bit of everything. I want some herbs, some vegetables, some flowers, sprouts, cacti and succulent, indoor plants and maybe a small fruit tree of some sort. I am a greedy, greedy person. My list of essentials include Tiny Tim tomatoes, herbs, sprouts (for kitchen counter), a zebra plant for indoors, cacti and succulents, a miniscule pond, a cute ornament and some kind of floor covering. Pots, plants, fertiliser, etc are too obvious to mention. I will have to see if I can have hanging baskets. I would like to have a hanging bag at least. Dan’s mother suggested I try growing eggplant or peas. She is a kind person.

2. Reading in bed. I have been reading An Hour In The Garden, The Book Thief, a Jodie Picoult book about a beaten wife and James Frey’s My Friend Leonard. I finished A Million Little Pieces on the weekend. It is humourous reading it and knowing that he made himself seem tougher than he really is. Sometimes I dislike him. My workmate Aston met him. She said he chews gum a lot. Doesn’t that have a laxative effect? I guess having that kind of gastrointestinal disruption is better than vomiting bits of his gizzards. I love reading in bed. I found a note asking my mum if I could stay up for ten more minutes to read.

3. Water. Water tastes delicious.

4.  Comfortable silences. Not having to talk is a reward for investing years into a relationship with a friend, or a reward for finding a sindred spirit. Get it? Sindred. Not kindred. Oh ho!

5. Potatoes. I could eat potatoes with every meal. I want to eat one right now. Have you seen a purple one? I almost cried with excitement! I want! I want!

6. Green olives stuffed with fetta.

7. Quiet elevator music. My hearing has become super sensitive somehow and I can’t handle loud music or people talking loudly or violent feigned laughter.

8. Sleeping next to my lover. It is a great comfort to see this person in what should be a vulnerable state offering shelter.

I miss my family.

Every Friday I DJ from my desk to the displeasure of those in the vicinity. The managers are usually frisky for the weekend and we’re usually running on a skeleton crew. Compact discs are pulled out (so old-fashioned, right? ho!), and awesome songs are played. I continue to work diligently of course.

I try to get the crowd moving. By moving I mean minor jiggling of heads, barely audible humming. That’s what I like to see to know that my deskotheque is a success!

Who wouldn’t want to get involved in my personal discotheque with the awesome songs listed below?

 Bonnie Tyler - Total Eclipse Of The Heart

This can only be listened to once every two or three weeks, and even that’s at a stretch. It’s always fantastic for producing a groan of dismay. That’s what I do. I make others uncomfortable. People close their eyes singing this. It’s frightening.

 Pat Benatar - Love Is A Battlefield, Hit Me With Your Best Shot

If I were a middle aged woman I would ‘pump’ my fist to HIt Me With Your Best Shot as well. I’ve seen it happen.

Cold Chisel - Khe Sanh, Cheap Wine 

The olds love Australian classics.

 Kelly Clarkson - Since U Been Gone

The title dishonours the English language, but it’s a real hit with the others.

 Icehouse - Electric Blue

I especially love this song. It’s close to my heart for some reason. I really enjoy singing ‘I JUST FREEZE!’ when I’m in a good mood (read: eight scotches under my cummerbund).

Some ones I like to sneak in include Jebediah’s Slightly Odway album (they SWEAR in it!), The Divinyls I Touch Myself (not work safe apparently) and Muscles’ Ice Cream for the sake of ridiculousness.

I like to finish with Electric Dreams. It really goes hogwild in one part.

 Next week I may even wear a trilby hat and get a famous girlfriend to hold my hand while I am a desk jockey. The girlfriend only has to be worth, like six million dollars.

HELLO

June19

Esther Crabbe is a showcase of ‘projects’ serving as a reminder to myself that there is more to life than data entry and Grand Theft Auto IV. Maybe.

‘ESTHER CRABBE’
I secretly want to be a stand-up comedienne but lack the confidence and humourous material. I also prefer to sit. Oh ho!!! I’m easily charmed, guiltily gullible and overly apologetic. I will always be a sixteen year old with freckles and protruding eye teeth. I enjoy simple pleasures; nervous stand-up comedians, a good semillon sauvignon blanc, , walking around my house in my underwear, balsamic vinegar, friendly service, Judd Nelson in his 80s heyday, a nice dress, dancehall reggae, miniscule victories and losses, and dogs ears. I also like Australian pop culture references, waking up strong in the morning and being a desperate believer.

BLOG DETAILS
Esther Crabbe was born in a Brisbane strip club to the beat of Ginuwine’s Pony under the influence of far too many overpriced drinks and the view of a snarling naked woman. Quite full and feeling alive, I believed I had something of value to contribute to the blogosphere. I sobered up but decided to perservere with my narcissistic objective. Esther was the name of a maternal great-aunt who also happened to be diabetic and introduced me to the joy of goat milk at a young age. I liked her and her name very much. Crabbe is a great word. I share some features of a crab. I am Cancerian. I walk sideways. I love hiding in my burrow. My eyes goggle out of my head on stalks.

Esther Crabbe is kindly hosted by Shane who has a delightful website www.wrish.com featuring his illustrations and humourous anecdotes.  The blogging platform used is Wordpress as it is so incredibly simple that a prawn could use it, The theme was suggested by a great friend ‘Diesel’ whose blog will be kickstarted soon. I would like to thank the author of the theme, whoever you are, for providing such an aesthetically pleasing theme. Good on you! I do not use any plug-ins that I’m aware of. I do not monitor traffic as I’m sure any program used would wither away from inactivity. All ‘work’ is mine. If you were to make any money from this, ‘giz’ some and let me know your marketing strategy.

COMMENTING POLICY
My commenting policy is simple. Please do not comment if you are a toad. You do not have the mental or physical faculties to type if you are a toad. It’s ridiculous.

CONTACT
Send all electronic mail to ec@esthercrabbe.com, or otherwise please leave a comment. It’s up to you, of course. I’ll be sitting here, waiting.

The person I’m in love with thinks I am in love with the male lead of The Merchants Of Bollywood. I’m not. I’m just impressed when short muscular men commence breakdancing like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I am also impressed by performers who can smile for two hours.

I have been grinding my teeth while sleeping at night. Sometimes my lower set of teeth get caught in front of my upper set of teeth. This gives me a fright. It is unnatural. I just tried doing it then and got goosebumps of displeasure.

A French salesman tried to sell me a facial peel today. He rubbed it on the back of my hand. It feels much soother, but it also feels like it has been slightly burnt. Perhaps it has been. I am uncomfortable with sad faces of spurned salespersons. Sure, it’s their profession, but I have enough initiative to find products for myself. I felt like trying to persuade him to buy my shirt so I could make a sad face to mirror his look of dismay when I declined his offer.

I found out what a ‘threehead’ is this evening. It isn’t chic.

We share a dream, and sing with one voice. I am, you are, we are Australian. Catchy song.

These are my typical work threads.

The red jacket was 3000 yen. Mine has a belt and wider lapels. The collar can button at two different places. My manager has threatened to steal it from me. I bought my aviators for 50 yen from a apanese secondhand store. The store also had really amazing and inexpensive dresses that were unfortunately too large for me. I regret leaving that mustard halterneck dress behind. It was stunning.

My aviators are plastic and cheap and slightly crooked. I love them for being slightly crooked. They instantly transform the wearer into the most awesome thing breathing. The bag is more of a bone colour and somewhat marbled in appearance and cost 800 yen. I bought it because I wanted to take my gifts on as hand luggage and only had a small bag. It’s quite a large bag, but unfortunately I’ve torn a hole in it from stuffing it with my study books, various notebooks, diaries, cook books, pens, bills, electronic sudoku, awesome paraphernalia, etc.

The vest was 3000 yen from a place that also yielded my short red umpsuit and old woman dress with tyrannosaurus rex sleeves. I call them tyrannosaurus rex sleeves because they they are sleeves that that particular dinosaur could pull off. The sweater is black and cost $20 from Cotton On. The shoes took about two years to successfully break in, and are matte with a more puckered appearance at the toe. They cost $102 and I bought them with my first pay after moving to Brisbane. They’re timeless.

My work desk has a Fire Warden’s helmet on and a fisherman made out of blu-tac. It’s not a very inspiring workdesk. I am working on making it more interesting a day at a time. So far the rock from Mount Everest with boogly eyes and a postcard from Germany are the only personal belongings of mine on it. Some people have photographs of their lovers or children. Affirmations are also very popular at my workplace. I think I will make a card that says ‘Your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard’. How’s that for positivity?

P.S. My polyvore-osity is awesomely terrible.