True Miracle Week 2 + All Gooch, No Douche.
The rice so far is not going quite to plan. All the containers are mouldy, but in the defence of miracles I haven’t been sending all the possible vibes there (if you have no idea what this is about, see last week’s article…). See, two things are happening. One is that I’m realising scepticism runs all the ways. I’m sceptical of the idea that there’s just this, the things we touch and nothing more… I love to have my mind changed by things, but on that note it’s very fixed. It’s the same for people who think there’s nothing but what you can see and touch – it takes a lot to change anyone’s mind about anything. We just fit stuff in the way our brains are already made up – that’s science, mate.
The second thing is that I’ve found it’s easier to send vibes to people or even animals than to rice in a jar. In the week my formerly sceptical friend messaged me from America to say can I send vibes to his mum’s dog, because his mind has been changed about those things recently and now he is all about the power of the unseen…. So I neglected the rice because of many things, one of them being vibe requests from the US.
Is this too curly for you? Then I’ll tell you about the time I saw a naked man playing electric guitar with a mullet and wing tattoos and his little dick widdling around at 208s.
208s is a house where they have shows sometimes. Beautiful Ash the dj with the scooter lives there. The shows are always way too loud and way too great. They always change you in some way. Definitely in making you a little bit deaf, and often in making you a little bit inspired or in love musically.
This time at 208s it was two palm bands, Palms and Gooch Palms. Autocorrect keeps changing it to ‘hooch’ but I keep changing it back. Winner! The date they played was the same date as international women’s day. Except someone didn’t tell the douchebags in the Bayswater bottle shop that it was our special day. Less winner.
When me and my housemate wandered round the bottle shop to choose some wine a man poked her with the end of his wine bottle and said something cheeky. At first I thought this was cute and friendly, but then when him and his friend were at the counter after some icky vibes and one was texting on his phone and at the same time glancing at my ass and nonchalantly saying ‘great ass’ without looking into my eyes, I didn’t think it was so cute.
My housemate on the way home reflected that the thing to say would have been “You don’t know me. Have some respect.” And I kept thinking about that. Because, yeah, people like to be told they are beautiful, even sometimes by a stranger but… that’s the thing… you can do it while having some respect. But I couldn’t say anything at the time, because my blood was bubbling up too much with fear and anger and I was just thinking about guns and Tank Girl, neither of which I had access to at the time, and, you know, I believe in the power of love and vibes.
Anyway it took a long time for my body to return to its feeling of safety and happiness, but by the end of the night the nude guitar player and the sassy drummer of Gooch Palms and all of the non-gooch Palms had melted my heart completely.
When I got to the 208 house there were many friendly people, all milling and being happy with having a place to go where everyone can spill out onto the street, and no-one comes to hassle you most of the time. I saw the redhead dj and he’d made me a mixtape to listen to on my way to and from the drop-in place where me and some friends are going to go on Tuesday nights to talk to all the people who live on the street and are interesting and strange and hurt and mysterious and deep and wonderful. I knew it would be a great mix, and guess what it totally is.
This was a good start to the heart melting.
Then Palms were getting ready and people were starting to come inside, and then they began and were very adorable. I’m not using that word to diminish them, I mean that they were deeply adorable, as the man at the front kind of gently tried to hassle people to come closer to him or to dance or something, and as the main guitarist wailed big fat licks every now and again, and as the not-yet-nude gooch man grinned away concentrating on the bass and as the ginger drummer destroyed parts of my hearing but won my heart, even with the cymbals going the whole time. I had actually come to the house because I looked at a youtube clip of them and decided I couldn’t miss it… and it was all crusty like the 208s sound always is rather than the smoothness of Palms on le tube, but, yeah it was all gooch and no douche.
I had been looking at the woman from Gooch Palms a little bit before they played and I finally worked out why I instantly loved her, and it was because she was like a combination of two great women I know – one, my best friend who came from a sports family and had kids really young and was confident all the time in a way that never was bad for anyone else, and Ainsley, one of the people from the Sex Panther band, who had some kind of gentle sass and the same face as this lovely one. It’s like when you meet someone with the name of someone you love and you can’t help loving them a little bit just because of that.
So they started playing, beautiful, loud, two-singer songs, with a mini drum set and one guitar, and then the great thing happened of the man taking his shorts off and totally wangling his dick about as he played, and shooting people with his guitar like Abbe May does, and grinning away, and doing two-handed waves and grins out to the crowd at many opportunities to make him and his band mate even more loveable than they would have been anyway.
I’m not going to describe the music because you can look that up, but I’m describing to you the feeling they gave me, and who they reminded me of, and what they wanged like because you can’t look that up.
After the show a man, a stranger, whose eyes I had been looking into and he into mine came up to talk to me. We wanted to talk to each other because of some vibey thing, or maybe a little bit because the ass of each of us appealed to the other, or the colour of our hair, or the shape of our face. Well, we only talked for a few minutes and then I went home, but this time my body just felt good as I walked away.
Maybe one day I’ll meet the stranger I end up cooking rice for, and him for me, and being naked in a lounge room together with great music playing and the best kind of vibes flowing all ways forever… It’ll be all gooch and no douche, and pretty much a miracle.