How a cheerleading musical teaches a lesson in cool. A sort-of review of Bring It On: The Musical.

“They are like the Aurora Borealis,” says Oscar Wilde’s King in The Remarkable Rocket, “only much more natural”.

Bulldust is fine, talc-like dirt that covers the surfaces of many roads in the Australian Outback, making them look deceptively smooth, hiding washouts and large holes.

As attempts to dismantle or at least pause (under the subtle auspices of ‘cleaning’) Occupy movements across the country, a sandal-clad New York immigrant commemorated her 125th birthday.

“There is a crack,” sings Leonard Cohen, “in everything, that's how the light gets in”. And here along the San Andreas Fault, after two felt temblors, after Turkey, the sun shines on a beautiful San Francisco, stirred and only a little shaken.

As the sun breaks all Jesus-like over the Rooster Stage, and some beautiful song I resign myself to scribble on my hand, source online, and buy from the first record store I find, plays in the background, I think of some other lyrics (this is not cheating, it is Leonard): "We are ugly, but we have the music," and I stand here, sticky from the spray of a thrown beer, lightly crumbed in dirt and ash, happily ugly.