great theatre blog by alison croggan

Chris O'Doherty

Oh yeah...

I have always liked the idea of heroes. Mine have included Charles Darwin, Sigmund Freud, Phar Lap, Mary Ann Bugg, Frida Kahlo and Chris O'Doherty - alias Reg Mombassa. I love his individuality, his guitar playing, his tingley moves and, best of all, his art. I once disturbed Mental As Anything changing in the back of a van and can attest to the fact that in the 80's, they wore y-fronts. Still undergoing therapy.

I have a pencil drawing by Chris called "Motorists." There's a fellow in gumboots pissing on a wall and two olds in a car passing. The detail of the characterisation is superb. Mambo has collected some genius full-colour comic art, and Chris' top the list in sheer hairiness. He has a special tilt on Jesus, dog trumpets, back yards, rural-cum-suburban paradises and general maleness and couldn't be any other nationality than Australian I reckon.

bliss factor #9: shimmering guitar in "Berserk Warriors," written by Chris' brother Peter and achingly sung by Martin Plaza. Of course, any sort of ode to Abba is alright by me, but this is vintage Mentals.

goldwire when only the best detention will do

all fall down

i am a falling star i
have had a tad too much to
drink so thinks the bouncer
i say bounce him
i do no one no harm 'cept
me, just me, no mind a-
noth-er kiss a-
noth-er kiss a-
nuth- the
boys behind us whoop'n'thump she's
FIIIINALLY kissed me back'n'so has
he but i'm crumbling at the
knees
too little too late i'm
gone i'm

BACK'n' I'm talking
to some blower by the
bar FUCK YOU i say
what? he huhs
FUCK YOU oh sorry -
sorry – only kidding
i grin, hand on his arm
ladelling the charm
he just sort of looks confused
i'm half
embalmed they have me
by each arm pour me
into a cab
before
he
fathoms
it


i crash couch
blankets
show's over
party's over
z
z
z
z
z
z
z
z
z

goldblowup

barcode consciousness contains logic, emotion, gut feeling, superstition, fear of numbers

Photo by Kerry Allemand

gone dead track

nurse x reports for work in the war zone

a step beyond
becoming, she strides out light
crossing the road w robbie in the phones
done with a swish of white shoes
everyday I have to cry some
(forgetting the second verse,
getting to the chorus early)
hey look me over
(if he would only - dr sanchez -
just look this way)
kind of wierd the world reflected in a driver's eye
leaflets shiver on the white line
money dancing in the bottom of her bag
nearly to the nearly to the kerb
only wonder how the baby's stump will heal
particularly since supplies are -
quick glance at the swatch
really oughta lose a few
she pulls her belly taut
time only left to feel the red blast rip -

footy dream

OK, this morning I had this dream where a footy team was charging across a field. Two of the ones at the front were stuffed guys like dolls made of a gleaming marshmallow-like substance, but firm. Then I saw the team charging head on with the mallow guys under their arms. Sometimes the off season seems very long.

election 2004

blooooooooooooooze
red-eyed bloooooooze
red white and blooooze
3 more yeeeeeeeeeerz

Macca, Jen and Tez at Planet 1972 photo by Jaques L'Affrique

Photo by Ted Lord

for example

i was standing on johnston street
when she fell out of the sky
an angel black as soot
eyes pooling 29 lifetimes
joy just off the boil
an OD that morning
a child to hold
a heart to capture
a furnace to refuel:
bar open

heiroglyphics swim
on the light pouring out her throat
as she embraces all of us
coal tumbles from her mouth
she dances upside down
her hair, refracting prisms, rears
she's 12, she's 98,
she died last year

she rises over me
like frida kahlo on her funeral pyre
the resurrection booth is open