Mario Millo’s 1975 assertion that Life, Love and Music are the three paramours of today’s man has always seemed to me a convenient and justifiable description of the male condition. It’s as apt in 2015 as it was some forty years ago.
Sure, one can get into arguments about the order that L, L and M should be placed but it’s largely academic and I’m certainly no long hair and have withdrawn my application form for membership to Sydney’s Push decades ago. I don’t think they would have accepted me anyway and, besides, I don’t own any black trousers and still remain challenged by Germaine Greer…… but that’s another story.
If you’re going to be unfaithful, then the femme fatale known as LIFE is a worthy mistress. The problem with her, however, is that she is capable of kicking you in the teeth at the most unexpected of times. When my daughter finished high school I was in denial for about six years. You see, it’s only a few years since I finished high school and I’m still wondering what I’m going to do when I grow up. The mistress appears uninterested in my pain and has threatened to look for someone younger. Believe me, mirrors in bathrooms and recent family portraits don’t assist in the therapy.
LOVE may be a safer long-term proposition (no pun intended) in ‘the affair’ stakes. She may not wear figure-enhancing galaxy dresses but I’m sure she’s capable of a tailored, yet fashionable, presence…. at least, you’d think. Not so. Princess Major, at the Greystanes’ compound/ ranch, has made it her quest– a ‘passion’ so to speak– to get me into track-suit pants around the house. “Paul, they’re really comfortable” and “No-one would look twice at you at Pemulwuy” are mantras that I’m becoming increasingly subjected to. Is this the torture that I have to endure in my twilight years? Love be gone!
The temptress MUSIC unfortunately is, like me, late middle-aged and weathered. Her upper arms have been dipped in a cellulite vat and her centre of gravity has noticeably lowered. To add insult to injury, she attracts people of her own age and non-chiselled gait. I was reminded of this when I recently ‘charged’ towards Fairfield RSL one Thursday evening upon hearing that Dave Graney was playing in The Supper Club for free. Whilst Graney’s performance was near faultless and I had secured refreshments at club prices (the Princess was the designated driver), I was amazed to see all the ‘old people’ who were sharing the experience around me. What were they doing there? Was John Farnham playing in the auditorium? Had a Spin-and-win extravaganza just concluded? I looked for toaster boxes under some of these punters’ arms but couldn’t see any. Music is definitely no unauthorised bed-mate.
Come to think of it life, love and music may only be passing acquaintances. What does Mario Millo know, anyway?
Paul's blog 
“I’m immune to your consultations. I’m quite aware of what I’m going through…”, clearly I’m in denial, demonstrated both by the poor paraphrasing and by the sudden reach for a profound set of words with which to stake my claim. Yet I hear, echoing in the spring reverb tank that is my skull, the contrary words…”You’re fading fast, baby Ah, ha, ha ah There’s nothing to you, baby Ah, wa, ha ah – Yeah The lights are long and the front doors open The furniture’s on the front lawn There’s no one home at all Ah, wa, ha ah – Yeah.”. Do we really deserve to be “Caught up, caught out, caught skint & gone without, the leisure suit to suit your station, uniform of nomads in our grey nation…” Jebediah, surely they were too young to have written this resignation…I knew what we were gonna say, And I didn’t want it to end that way, Like on a winters day, but that’s okay, Because I’ve got my tracksuit ready on”?
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I have a Jebediah disc somewhere myself. Might look that one up in the shelves.
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