BROAD / The Passion of Saint Nicholas (2-for-1)

by Geraldine Quinn

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I haven’t missed driving around a block or three Keeping my little green eyes peeled For when the parking metre’s free Living in my PJs My definition of bliss But if there’s one thing that I miss… I’ve missed your stink. I’ve missed the stench of you… I never miss the hustle Or the Vitamin D My soul is renewed by solitude, it’s so appealing to me Sometimes it’s lonely It would be of me remiss If I did not mention missing this: The pong of you guys…The fear in your eyes…. Our memories - Are so olfactory It’s hardly a surprise Goodbye sobriety, career status anxiety I’ve been hunkered down at home It fills me with doom to be in a crowded room But I’m hungry for a whiff of all your pheromones Not gonna miss iso or saying “Locky D” Not gonna miss all the white hot takes Or the endless conspiracies We all need connection And it’s worth taking the risk So I no longer have to reminisce… About your stink
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I landed an agent - The future was bright Enlisted in workshops - And sent out invites And then I auditioned for mums! Mum after mum I auditioned for muuuuums I was 26 next to a 50 plus actor Playing my husband, I went up for mums. If I only was relatable My agent would say “your look is unique - Not girl-next-door dateable They loved your audition” she tried to console “You have to try hard at being less droll Don’t be downhearted, you’ll get the next role You’re just not what they’re looking for!” I went back to music – why not cabaret? I started with covers - And nothing to say I invited my agent along To prove to her I had a talent with song She said “you’re right – your pipes have some juice I’ve got you an audition for a Disneyland cruise!” “See you’ve gotta be relatable Make yourself palatable as you can Just more relatable Then you wouldn’t struggle to book the event Try being less YOU – you know what I meant Sign here - and YES - I get 15 per cent” So I tried to be what they were looking for We had a meeting - It didn’t go well She said “It’s not working - We simply don’t gel” By then I was writing some songs of my own Did my first solo original show Several years later I won an award But none of the managers took me aboard They said… (pause while I try to control myself) “You’re not that relatable Do you have to write your own songs? They’re not translatable We know your story’s regaling and true But nobody’s wanting - THIS - point of view We love what you’re doing – we just don’t love YOU You’ll never be what we are looking for” If there is a moral, then take this away: They may hold the cards - And not know how to play Sometimes your life is a torturous slog. But that doesn’t mean you’re not good at your job I think it’s OK to let yourself cry As long as you get up and give it a try Who cares if you are relatable? And it may feel unobtainable One day you’ll be what they are looking for You’ll be what they are looking for You'll be what they are looking for You will be what I’m looking for
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It’s such a cock forest at the manger Enough testosterone to choke an ass We’re really not venting But this representing Is leaning hard to the privileged class It’s such a cock forest at the manger Let’s go home There’s not enough ladies at the manger There’s not enough enbys or the gender queer We find ourselves boxed in By fellas and oxen You might be giving us the bummest steer It’s such a cock forest at the manger Let’s go home It’s such a weird vibe at the manger Joe keeps saying he’s divinely cucked This gender reveal has A trio of beard dads The angel’s filling up the crib with chuck It’s such a cock forest at the manger ( It’s kinda shonk Let’s go home I’ll call a donkey Let’s… go… home Ah! MEN!
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I was working on my girl boss dream in 2017 The most organic supplements you’ve ever seen I built my online product range “Mums au naturel” Then in 2020 we descended into hell Now I have a fever but I’ve done my own research I have no sense of taste. By the way check out my merch I’ll be fine! Yeah I’ll pull through. I holiday in Byron, treat myself with baby poo I’ll be fine! I take turmeric and lime My water’s alkaline so I’ll be fine My shakras are aligned and I’ll be fine Check out my husband’s socials! He manages a gym He activates his seed by hanging weights off his foreskin He talks a lot ‘bout pure blood. All his friends are white They’ve hired the same designer From some place called The Third Reich (spoken break) He’d never break a promise, he just has a nasty flu He’s still going to the Grampians to camp with local youth And he’ll be fine! He’s never wrong He can’t catch a virus, his immune system’s so strong He’ll be fine! You sheep stay in your line That hacking cough’s benign, he’ll be fine Blood oxygen of nine, but he’ll be fine Om mani padme om Om mani padme om… Namaste… (Click the link to join our community it’s sixty two dollars fifty a minute…) Namaste… Subscribe
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It’s gonna happen one day - That’s what the poets say Everybody finds love You can get rich - dispensing romance tips – like this Get yourself out there! Don’t be too forward Be cool – but far from cold Honesty helps – though no oversharing Stay in touch – but not too much It’s too much advice! At too high a price! Trust me – the gamut’s run I’m in my prime - Form an orderly line I’m ready to find the one! But if you don’t want my best You don't deserve me at my worst You may have a shot - Or maybe not - So what? I’ve got places to be So I’m on the shelf - This cheese won’t eat itself – I tells you No more mutating Ingratiating cause you’re scared to be alone It’s so frustrating - Who cares if you’re dating Or you’re curled up with your phone Some days I’m FINE! Dressed up to the nines and Ready to effervesce! And when I’m glum - It’s dinner for one And that’s gonna cost me less And if you don’t want my best You don't deserve me at my worst There’s no kismet. Nothing’s written in stone There’s a lot to love ‘bout being alone It still could happen somehow But with or without - I think I’m happening now. You know what they say - Cards fall where they may Cupid’s your croupier Snap, poker or fish – play what you wish I’m happy with solitaire And if you don’t want my best You don't deserve me at my worst It can’t be over-stressed You don't deserve me at my worst
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Kaftans, and turbans, and comfortable shoes Going home early and watching the news Leopard print jumpsuits and bangles galore Dripping with ore – like Zsa Zsa Gabor It’s plastic – I don’t give a shit? I’ve earned this Bunions, and leg cramps and crepe paper skin Award nominations but oh so few wins… My unruly hormones refuse to behave My menstrual phase - one foot in the grave Hey! That’s why razors exist – I’ve earned this. I’ve been called bitter, a fat bloke in drag I’m racing to hell in a basket That’s not enough to deter this “old hag” You’re stuck with this duck ‘til she’s chucked in a casket From sold out theatres, to half empty rooms Kids shows, and shit-shows run by sexist goons Pursued by producers, who’ll corner a chick Say they love your schtick Then whip out their prick Then say it’s our fault they’re a dick! I earned this…(swallows in a drink) Key change I spent more than half of my life navel-gazing This crick in my neck’s telling me I’m amazing It’s too short a life to obsess ‘bout your thighs There’s plenty of guys – who’d gladly oblige If you’re breathing you’re taking a risk - I’ve earned this. Thirty odd years since I wrote my first song Still panic ‘bout my sales every night I’ve flown under the radar so long The US government’s approaching me for a drone strike You dodge all these bullets intended to harm yer Try smelting them down, and forge them into armour I’m disillusioned with self-medication Time for profusions of self-adulation I’m bursting my Spanx chrysalis – I’ve earned this. I’ve earned THIS And THESE My catastrophic knees My gargantuan abdominal driiiiiift I’ve earned this I’ve earned this I’ve earned this It sounds like I’m taking the piss I’ve earned this
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(Instrumental)
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Give me an object Give me a town Give me an action And I will astound Conjured from nothing By using my wits And just enough vigour To give you the shits It's tango with words Oration in dance I will do an accent If given the chance I'm actor, I'm singer Director and clown Impelled by my hatred For writing things down Weaving magic with suggestions from the crowd I don't mean to boast but I am the most I must say the quiet part loud Am I Master of Impro? (YES! AND!) Creating the universe out of thin air Master of Impro! (YES! AND!) Give me a prompt - if you dare... I impro for fun! I impro for life! I impro at work and at my neighbour's wife Impro in the evening, impro in the morn But if you say "improv" I'll kill your first born Am I Master of Impro? (YES! YES AND!) Scoring a hat-trick in drama football Master of Impro! (YES! AND AND!) And I'm not annoying at all Not at all I'm not annoying at all
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about

BONUS - the 'The Passion of Saint Nicholas' instrumentals to sweeten the wait. Thank you all so so so so much for your patience. Everyone made a mammoth effort from start to finish, snatching time in between people's jobs/gigs/journeys. I wish Dad and Nick could have heard these songs.

credits

released August 30, 2024

Produced independently by Geraldine Quinn

Engineering - Marcello Lo Ricco and Steven J Hearne
Original season of 'The Passion of Saint Nicholas' supported by City of Melbourne Arts Grants.

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Geraldine Quinn Melbourne, Australia

Geraldine Quinn is a multi-award-winning writer-actor-songwriter-rock cabaretiér. She's been nominated for 26 Green Room Awards (winning 6), 3 Melbourne Comedy Festival Golden Gibbo Awards (winning in 2011), Best Cabaret in Adelaide Fringe (2013), 2 NZ Fringe Awards (2014) and was nominated for Most Outstanding Show in MICF 2022.

She's healthily enamoured of David Bowie & not at all obsessed.
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