safe in a place. Once you do, you stop paying attention in the way you need to ...
And then you get bur- gled,'' he adds, darkly. Sedaris and Hamrick have lived in.
The Sydney Morning Herald
DECEMBER 23-25, 2011 CHRISTMAS EDITION SPECTRUM
5
Richard Glover feeling of sameness in England; it doesn’t look like the United States. America and Australia, they are new places. It’s almost like coming to feel safe in a place. Once you do, you stop paying attention in the way you need to . . . And then you get burgled,’’ he adds, darkly. Sedaris and Hamrick have lived in Europe, between houses in France and Britain, for 13 years and being an ‘‘outsider’’ suits him. ‘‘I feel sorry for anyone who hasn’t taken LSD and who hasn’t lived outside their country,’’ he says, without a hint of a joke. His French is now excellent but he continues to listen and record what unfolds around him under the cover of being a ‘‘foreigner’’. People assume that if you don’t understand or speak the language perfectly, ‘‘you’re not too bright and you don’t count, either’’, he says. Revisiting New York recently, he watched the responses of a waiter in a restaurant as they served a throng of French and English visitors. ‘‘When we went up, because we
‘I think still that Australia is gentler than the US.’ were Americans, you could see they were thinking ‘Oh, at last . . . and don’t you think the world would be a better place if all these foreigners went back to where they came from?’ If a French visitor to New York gets it, you can imagine that a Mexican really gets it. I have a friend whose French is perfect, she gets a lot of what goes over my head here. She gets the subtleties and is often hurt by what people say to her or the way they treat her. I wouldn’t be hurt, I’d be grateful. I can use it. She gets depressed.’’ Seated across a table in his immaculate, stylish and extremely eccentric Paris flat, he is as remarkable in person as he is in performance. In interviews, he is often described as wispy, a dormouse with a voice like a jockey. But his presence is huge. He is funny, dark and mordantly observant and laughs often. In fact, that is the best part: his frequent, uninhibited and truly infectious cackle. Sedaris kept the past 10 years’ work on his stolen computer – he used an electric typewriter until then – and estimates there were 10 new essays in there and quite a few more he didn’t like or that needed work and time. Some he can retrieve through email and The New Yorker but others are gone. He still carries little notebooks,
writes a diary every day and has them bound every season. But he has had to reconstruct the last tour via his notebooks and as he describes his efforts I nearly fall of my chair laughing. ‘‘Oh yes, it was difficult because I’d look at the notebook and read ‘blink, don’t blink, tattoos’. And then I’d remember I was in Sacramento in a hotel elevator with a guy with tattoo-covered legs and a T-shirt that said ‘Blink if you want me’.’’ A veteran of the Edinburgh Festival, this year he did the fringe circuit for the first time, using the smaller venues as a kind of ‘‘lab’’ to test new work. His book signings are an eternal fount for stories and, somehow, we get on to the incredible intimacies people confide in him. He tells me of a friend, 30 years ago, who told him he had been on the phone to his dad in the days when phones had cords, and was being told news, which meant he simply couldn’t hang up and so had ‘‘shit in his hand’’. ‘‘I told that story on stage and this girl came up after and said she did it all the time with paper because they’re embarrassed about the splash. Others still confessed to ‘lilypadding’ toilets with paper nests.’’ Sedaris says he loves to elicit stories from people, doesn’t like silences in queues and cannot just sign a book and wave the next person through. Once, a man told him he had been the recipient of a kidney from his uncle and that his uncle had died on the operating table. ‘‘I still wonder what combination of questions made that come out,’’ he says. ‘‘But I don’t want to know how someone’s cousin bought them my book, I want to hear something completely different.’’ These days, the subjects of so much of his writing – his parents, a few of his siblings and Hamrick – have become a big part of his celebrity. In London last year, The Guardian reported that Sedaris got plenty of applause but the camera flashes really went off when Sedaris pointed his partner out from the stage. Audiences, Sedaris says, will also give him anything he wants and all he has to do is ask. ‘‘Recently, I have had trouble sleeping. So I asked if anyone had any sleeping tablets. I had a bagful and a doctor even said if he’d had his script pad, he would have written me a prescription. I had a bagful. It got stolen, with the computer. I hope the thief takes them all. And dies.’’ David Sedaris appears at the Sydney Opera House on January 16.
T
The (sort of) true meaning of Christmas
he Dag’s Dictionary returns in this special preChristmas edition, containing all the words that should exist but don’t — seasonally adjusted. Auto-erratic The strange darting and swooping movements made by cars as they hunt for a spare parking spot at Westfield Chatswood Shopping Centre. Bon nots The crap jokes in the Christmas cracker. Crass kringle Any Christmas present that’s inappropriate to the season, such as sexy knickers, aprons with protruding breasts or outback dunny novelty coin holders. Dad-lib Any dreadful joke from the father of the family, delivered while preparing the Christmas meal, such as: ‘‘This meat is not much chop’’ or ‘‘There’s a bit of a snag with the barbecue’’. Day spar The verbal workout between sister one and sister two over the details of what will happen on ‘‘the day’’. Elf-effacing A child who is so modest and reserved, they are happy to play one of the elves in the Christmas play. Fillerbusters A selection of cheap toys placed in a child’s stocking in the certain knowledge they will all be broken by noon. Gift-guzzler The six-year-old who manages to open their 27 presents, breaking at least five of them, before anyone else has progressed to gift No. 2. Hambassador The member of your family delegated to carry the ham through the doorway at your brother-in-law’s place. Hambidextrous To be able to use both hands to shovel in the ham during lunch. Hambulance Descriptive of the car on the way home as people groan in pain from eating too much ham. Hollyday house A home overfestooned with Christmas lights and decorations. Hype couture This summer’s must-have fashion item, going back in history as far as the Hypercolor T-shirt, rendered daggy within months. Hymnastics A method of singing
Illustration: Edd Aragon carols in which the singer, in a failed attempt to hit the notes, alternates between singing really low and really high, sometimes three or four times in a single line. Lollycoddle To mollify children during the Christmas morning preparations by throwing them regular supplies of sweets. This inevitably backfires when, crazed by sugar, they run amok just before noon. Mallingering The act of wandering around the mall in the hope a present for your partner will present itself with no mental effort on your part. It never does. Parkages Any presents clearly bought on Christmas morning from the one shop open — the petrol station on the highway. But does Aunt Vera really need a set of jumper leads and five litres of antifreeze? Me-quest A present really designed for the enjoyment of the giver, as in the keen amateur chef who just bought his non-cooking partner a fancy frying pan. Pine gape The unattractive bald bit of Christmas tree you attempt to angle towards the wall. Polterguest Any ancient relative who, though physically in attendance at the table, isn’t entirely there. Poparazzi The grandfather who has
received a digital camera for Christmas and insists on spending the whole day snapping photos. Santamental Descriptive of the movies and TV shows on Christmas Eve, all of which feature a grouchy person who discovers through the power of Santa that it is better to be nice. SchadenFreud The pleasure that comes late on Christmas Day when you comprehend the high level of Freudian psychoanalysis urgently required by everyone in your family except for you. Season’s gratings The cheery Christmas card from James and Margaret, which arrives every year from Britain, even though you haven’t the foggiest who they are. Sockosis A delusional state in which elderly relatives believe a pair of socks is still a reasonable Christmas present despite the fact they now cost $2 a pair at Kmart. Subordinate Claus Any department store Santa hired to do the fill-in periods when the main Santa is on a meal break or delivering presents. Thindignation Outrage expressed by someone who has been given clothes for Christmas — but three sizes too big, as in the phrase: ‘‘How fat do you think I am?’’ Thingamajiggle To noisily shake a Christmas present to determine what’s inside. Tinselitis A disease that can sweep whole neighbourhoods in which normal householders enter into a competition to the death as to who can cover their house with the most decorations. Waltercation The argument between the four-year-old cousins about which Walt Disney film will be put on the DVD player while they are waiting for lunch. Wrap-music Christmas music, typically featuring Bing Crosby or Colin Buchanan, played whenever gifts are wrapped or unwrapped. Yawnament The tournament of yawning that occurs after Christmas lunch, when the whole table sinks into a deep post-prandial snooze. Yule-tithe The proportion of your annual income that will be spent on this one day of the year.
ARE YOU READY TO LET OFF SOME STEAM?
A RIP-ROARINIFGT CHRISTMAS G S! FOR A L L AGE
4 - 29 JANUARY BOOK NOW TICKETMASTER.COM.AU OR 136 100 UNDER THE AIR-CONDITIONED BIG TOP, TUMBALONG PARK, DARLING HARBOUR
MAJOR SEASON PARTNER
circusoz.com 1HERSA1 0005
