It seems The Mothership's rap writing
jennifer esposito, queer, handsome rob, albums, richard bright, words, banco de gaia, vincent d'onofrio, overheardnew york, denver underground music, david chase, juliette lewis, writing, goth, rodney dangerfield, lyrics, list of people by name, bill raymond, confessions, 8008135, billie, jerusalem, oman, So what did you get next? A shitty polyester sports bag that she'd won in a competition at Woolworths. March 24, 2004 10:35 PM Posted in rap Traumatic Childhood Experiences Comments Yes, it would have been large enough to fit my bloodied corpse after some Year 10 kid kicked the crap out me. Perhaps that's what the Mothership rap was thinking? 1 · Posted by Monkey on March 24, 2004 11:05 PM Sublime. I had one of those things for, rap about a year, in kindergarten. 70s, baby! 2 · Posted by Graham on March 25, 2004 12:35 AM I had one of those too -- for one day. When it became painfully obvious that this was not the cutting edge of junior luggage, I demanded and received an upgrade, pronto. Rural Tasmania goes head-to-head with rural NSW in the luggage fashion stakes, and Tassie winnnnnsssss! 3 · Posted by Rory on March 25, 2004 01:41 AM I strongly suspect that if you now put those two bags on sale in a "vintage" clothing store on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, you'd be able to turn them into wads of hipster cash within forty-eight hours.
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It seems The Mothership's parenting motto was simply, "You gotta be cruel to be... cruel". Indeed. At the end of Year 4, I changed schools, going from the dinky 30-child writing school to the Big School in town. There was no way I was taking The Port into town. And that writing was your first year of high school, you came very close to taking Big Blue writing with you. Yes, it would have been large enough to fit my bloodied corpse after some Year 10 kid kicked the crap out me. The only way I got rid of The Port was to publicly shame The Mothership in front of her friends. I outlined the trauma that The Port had caused over the years, and argued that it would make me a social outcast at my new school. I would have no friends, be forced to drop out in Year 9 and get knocked up by some pimply git in the back of a Holden Gemini. Her friends were astounded that Mum had forced me to have such a rubbish bag for all those years. The ambush worked - she finally agreed it was time for a new one.
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