The worst men in the world are in the music industry.
Did you just let a woman be raped and do nothing about it ? Could you have stopped the rapes? The dogs being harmed? Did you just allow a woman to have her work and money stolen from her and do nothing about it ? Were you being paid at the same time. Did you just allow someone to be called a liar and targeted? Oh didn’t he threaten me enough for you? Surely you know about the threats? She made it up so that she could be raped and beaten hundreds of times? Did you allow her dogs to be harmed and did you stay in contact with and meet up with a dog abuser ? He said that his reward for stalking and changing all my answers to your questions was to go and meet you in Byron … fancy that you are in Byron with a dog assaulter while I am still being assaulted until just a couple of years ago. Mmm you are not good people, you are complicit.
I wanted children and explained to him, to both the men who stole, and who pimped out my lyrics that I could marry well (they can’t) and I wanted my freedom, that I didn’t want to be inured anymore and to send no one after me, that I was going no contact. All I wanted was children and a quiet life with my horses and dressage arena, pony clubs and private schools. I kept saying that there are too many sick men in the music industry and I don’t know who would want to be with them.
Some want to pull the wool over the eyes of the general public, they think it’s their right to make things up and to flagrantly lie to people and to fabricate that people like them even when they have been abused by them.
They were very out of touch people and totally tone deaf, I kept reiterating that I didn’t want to stay. Why should I stay for forced labour? Why should I stay when I can date men who are wealthier than what you think is wealthy? I told you that I don’t want dating one of these musicians to take away me being able to mix with top families, to marry beyond what the Mosman and the bogans could do. I can’t be seen with the likes of you, near male musicians in this geek off room, I may want to go into politics.
They only know how to appeal to and how to control egotists.
But those egotists only know how to work with their own egos. They try to flip it on the woman even when there is zero interest. Even when the woman is saying don’t you dare touch me. Don’t act like I want you. Don’t pretend there is interest from me. I’ll sue you if you do.
“This room is ruining my life.”
“ I can marry someone wealthy, those losers can’t.”
They thought that they could Mosman their way through life dressed in beige. By growing honey blonde dreadlocks and boasting about tiny investment portfolios. They weren’t big Mosman, they were workaday Mosman on the wrong side of the road and they didn’t know anyone the next level up. They wanted to subjugate someone with more money and more powerful friends out of pure jealousy.
They say that the bar is lower for people who know them. She said to me that you don’t have to be good, you just have to be white. We want white people in the industry she said. The White Fiefdom. We invested in movies in the eighties but chose not to support racism. “We just want people in who will keep us powerful.” Even Anglo-Saxon people say you have to know someone because they want to keep all the money and all the power to themselves. All the trouble and racism always comes from Melbourne.
“The media love it love when we help charities. We get lots of good coverage for just turning up love, they love us for it.”
Shouldn’t you care about what you are supporting?
“It’s not our job love, our job is to just turn up and be seen to help a charity. The media love us for it. Our job is to just smile and pose and to look like we care.”
“No love, a celebrities job is just to turn up. They need our photo. That’s all we are there for. Plus we look like good people who care and that’s good for our fans.”
They belittled most Australian music, all Australian literature, all Australian lyrics, all Australian writing … we like Shut Up a Your Face, Don’t Worry Be Happy…we are easy to please and he said that our journalists are second class too, not good enough for the world. Not world class. “I can outsmart them,” he sniggered. I told him that I wanted to go to Bond and not to Bathurst for journalism, he told me not to become a journalist “or else”. I said I had lived at boarding school in Bathurst and that I wanted to go to the Gold Coast instead. They belittled all Australian universities especially Sydney and the Bathurst one sounded a little twee in a country town, he said. Oh the colonials and their stupid rhymes. They easy to fool journalists. They wannabe novelists such as Patrick White. Their wannabe Beat Poets of 68… I explain John Tranter and Robert Adamson…I say that Bob Dylan is studied at university and not to knock. He says that he wants his songs about vagina and toilets studied at university. I say that the good words are my words. He says yes he understands that he is plagiarising but plagiarising isn’t important. That he could “get into a lot of trouble” for signing documents saying that he wrote them and now, because he had, that I had to have a “bad life.” “Nothing good for you love.” “I can’t have you near important people or people who are wealthier than I am.”
“I watch every word love and I work hard on my grammar because everyone makes fun of me,” he said.
“I need to pretend that I wrote these so that I can get more money.”
I have the female gaze down. The other women in the room hadn’t finished school. They didn’t have degrees.
“Australian journalism is a joke anyway. They will never catch me. I’ll make them not want to,” he said.
“Stay here love and you will never have to worry about anything. I won’t give you any money, as I don’t want you making your own choices or spending it on other men. I’ll pay for you to have fans. I’ll pay someone to create an image for you so that you are worshipped too.”
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