TURNING UP TO THE PAGE

Ok, so I'm here.

There is a concept well-known to frustrated writers around the globe. It's called "Turning Up To The Page". Which essentially, entails sitting down and spilling your mediocre guts on the page, regardless of the result.

Generally, most such futile attempts stay tucked away from the greedy eyes of the viewing public, but not today. This, my friends, is Mellipop turning up to the page. So I'm here. It's like turning up on a blind date to meet my muse. Picture the scene - I'm feeling a litle bit embarrassed right now and am slowly scanning the room for potential sightings, hoping that eventually our eyes will meet across the room and that our heads will simultaneously turn down in a subtle nod of greeting and mutual recognition.

But the fucker ain't here and I'm heading to the bar. I guess maybe he saw me and left screaming for the exits. Or perhaps I am in the wrong bar. At the wrong time. Read into that metaphor what you will, my distant compadres.

Nothing going on in Mellipopland right now. So being payday and all, I sought to medicate myself with music, hoping to artificially inseminate my barren artistic eggs with the creative jizz of indie-pop royalty. Elliott Smith, The Shins and The Earlies. All of which have thus far failed to rouse me from my existential inertia.

Bec Cartwright and Lleyton Hewitt were on three magazine covers in the newsagent today.