haiku: the owl & pussycat went to town

poles apart maybe

ere colluding cityscapes

the same boat we share

generation next

i became an aunty by proxy recently. my second degree niece courtesy of serena & eugene is called nehlia whose etymology from tibetan lies in "strength".

she is the united colors of benetton baby complete with blue eyes i've been fantasising about [along with eddie] forever. if she had woolly enochian hair, i might have to steal her. luckily with her silky locks, we will all be spared the legal hassles.

in the absence of my other favoured small miss, code-named bella, who has recently skipped country borders, i'm planning on mothering vicariously through this amazing creature whilst my empty womb grows cobwebs & is filled with cinematic globe-trotting adventures instead. my films will be my children!

it's not a 100% pain-free decision but probably the right one none-the-less. the absence of a child-seeking missile man certainly uncomplicates matters... and the fact as a source of great pride, i've already successfully negotiated one round of parenthood flying solo. perfection is hard to achieve, twice.

in the meantime i'll try not to turn my lovely charge into a [very attractive] handbag. i'm just not that ab fab.

jet plane

a little film i made with dermot & raen on the run between airports on 2 X NOKIA phones for KINO KABARET's 48 hour film challenge in conjunction with adelaide film festival 2009.

part of my "loves me not" introverted narrative mental health series all shot on mobile phones for punk monk propaganda.

a penny for your thoughts

in 1963 australia initiated the change to decimal currency. by 1966 the penny had given way to the dollar which in turn became a polymer pioneer in 1988. australia was the first country in the world to issue a complete plastic note system.

this was apparently done in order to provide greater defense against counterfeiting which became an issue in the late 60s after the decimal conversion. plastic notes are also allegedly more sustainable, clean & offer better recycling options. i know i utilise mine well...

so if you want to know my thoughts, i prefer you cross my palm with polymer rather than dirty old bronze or silver. sharing fortunes really is a two-way street.

champagne & cigarettes at caroline's

"you really are a fuckin' moron, you know that! i'm gonna call up the big tobacco companies and thank them for burying you!" -- joe, coffee & cigarettes [2003]

NB. background sound = spice girls, spice up your life.

the lights are on but noone's home

i wonder if this is the universal condition?

vacancy is rife. let's linger in the dark crooks & cracked crannies of nothingness. why not?

the cracked underbelly of what lies beneath the radar. perfection is so yesteryear [today].

negative space all seductive: vampyr unleashed, feel the rhythm.

hedonism: an all encompassing two dimensional reptilian cloak sensually shrouding reality.

sure beats suburban reality for the wakeful.

i wanna fuck you too, let me tell you muthafuckers whose built to last.

our brains will still be here tomorrow. what we choose not to remember then don't count.

broken home

"we are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. it is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person" -- william somerset maugham [1874-1965]

the photo above is one i took in a friend's house which has been boarded up for well over a decade as a mausoleum. it has been left untouched, the family home where he grew up playing on his bicycle on the driveway etc since the day his parents divorced. it's the most eerie altar to a forgotten era & lost love i've ever seen. the dust-heavy sadness so thick you can almost cut it with a knife, or camera lens.

statistics show that half of all american children will witness the break-up of a parent's marriage. of these, close to half will also see the break-up of a parent's second marriage. the figures in australia are not so different.

the decrease in social stigma of divorce in western civilisation has resulted in phenomenal growth of marriages terminated before "death do us part". there are other valid reasons too but this seems to be a huge contributing factor.

the institution of marriage is not what it once was and is something of a static white elephant. it was always an arguably patriarchal property transaction which both diminished & dehumanised women.

ironically today in NSW, australia, marriage actually offers women more property rights protection than the property act will under a de facto or common law relationship in the event of a breakdown. this legislation is currently under review. like almost everything else it will however be decided by men.

more important than anything is that our society still leans on an unrealistic archaic nuclear family model where children and adults alike form expectations of blissful permanence. when the structure capsizes, as it invariably does more than 50% of the time, the support network is cumbersome & unworkable. it comes as a crushing blow regardless of marrying in perfectly with probability.

"broken home" has actually been eradicated from the everyday vernacular in a sociological trickledown effect because it implies damage, which is well documented. the hurt didn't stop, a politically correct band-aid just got stuck on.

monogamy is an artificial device created by religion to invalidate polytheism & age-old gaia based worship and to wield control over the populace. more & more it is being proven not to work even though it's a delightful idea which sells hallmark cards. only 3% of species on earth are and it's increasingly apparent that we're more often than not, not one of them.

right wing religious groups hate the increased failure & apparent extinction of the marriage model because over 80% of children who are products of broken homes end up living with their mothers without an alleged stable father figure. a whole society of bastards growing up in semi-matriarchal sustenance which completely disempowers the church and undermines its age-old antiwomen propaganda!

despite marriage not being forever, people keep doing it expecting it to be, although marriage statistics are on the decline. unmarried household couples are still on an exponential increase [and have been since the mid 80s according to the US census bureau].

the joining of assets through wedded or common law union has never been a more legally active endeavor & pre-nups/co-habitation agreements keep lawyers happily scribing, buzzing like busy worker bees. their large pools, homes and cars: testament to the boom in family/property law. it's a lucrative business. between my ex-fiancé & myself, 320 000 AUD was spent warring over just one property. a very large chunk on legals, and that was for a very inconsequential settlement... love lost, the lawyers won.

we grow up under the false premise of a hans christian anderson sterilised fairy tale blended with a zero coke commercial where love is pure romance and we all end up energetically galloping off to the castle beyond the sunset with princes on our high horses with decreasing waistlines & a perpetually frosted vision. too bad if you get the lame pony... like most of us invariably will.

perhaps not just us as individuals, but the whole face of our society can implement real change in a positive way now, not to be the same as the last. who knows? if stupid white men remain in power probably not. but as they are increasingly raised by women & others in household models which deviate "from the norm" and various versions of SWM invade the white house, local government, our court rooms etc perhaps there's a chance the cycle will continue to evolve/devolve. still that's what was said post revolutionary haight-ashbury days. after burning bras, tuning in & dropping out, massive hypocrisy reigned and the beat generation mutated mostly back into their 1950s conservative parents. the acid came out in the wash.

maybe there's a future where lovely homes like my friend's needn't be shut up indefinitely so that painful memories can't escape to haunt those who still can't bear the heart-deep emotional scars. a place where it's not necessary to hide behind locked doors. i suspect that is a world where santa & easter bunny's masks have melted off revealing the corporate money making machine behind them. it might just take awhile.

haiku: love for grabs

disemboweled meat slab
passed off between unseen hands
in your frost-filled wake

KINO = the new religion

KINO is so much more than an underground film movement.

we have the photographic evidence that it's also a cult religion, stomping ground for all emerging artists, furniture removalist company, dating agency, AA adjunct, friend finder, short stay accommodation provider, networking hub, multimedia initiative and mega party planner.

so if it's a hook-up you're after [in all of it's various guises] & you might want to make/critique/watch a film along the way... come find us at sydney KINO. you will undoubtedly sight some punk monkeys en route carrying a couch, camera or escaping sex-crazed groupies by climbing trees.

love is blind...

...especially that of the family generated variety.

whilst on an excursion on the back streets of newtown in search of cardboard, i stumbled upon this crowning jewel of parental pride.

mohammed's current age is unknown, but imagine the fun [insert terror] of being picked up from school in this bad ass set of wheels with your cherub-like baby image plastered everywhere, every day. going over to mohammed's house for dinner potentially wrist-slashingly mundane: you'd never get through the obligatory family album, thousands of static semi-identical phots of mohammed in various much adored & analysed environments. our precious son, nicknamed god.

or what happens the day the rear vision motif is taken down and replaced by, i don't know the house pet, or the new family kebab franchise advertising, done at the same print copy place that did mohammed's baby shots at such a good price. doghouse anyone?

....

so i've been thinking about serial killers a bit lately. questions of ticks, triggers, all part of the course for realistic character development for my protaganist which we'll be filming later this year. she won't be shooting anyone but she lives on the sharp divide between myth and reality.

in the course of my research which covered psychological profiling, weird factors invariably come up. there's a lot of mythology regarding this area of human endeavor manifested mostly through the media.

one aspect which is consistent are dysfunctional family backgrounds featuring at least one overbearing adult figure. there's ALWAYS a conflict source, often violence, sex, drug abuse of sorts just to pathologically spin the adolescent mind off even further from the intense flux of the teenage condition.

once again, we're so over-exposed to all this stuff now it's like being hit with the 40 hour famine on high repetitive mode punctuated by recycled imagery of bloated, fly bown malnutrition children who can be saved by jesus organisations, right? in this case religion really is their last hope, because noone else seems to care. we're all too consumed by our little lives or for some, those of our neighbour [he looks like norman bates].

what comprises dysfunction is hugely subjective and has been immersed into popular culture vernacular. however the main definition used by medical practitioners relates to where relationships in a family unit do not promote or are conducive to emotional & physical health. dysfunction is bigger than the individual. like everything in life, it's about connections, or lack of.

which brings me back to this car.

it's very likely that the dear boy will not grow up to be a serial killer or some psychopath who will overwhelm the world with his reign of terror.

far be it for me to suggest that well meaning bursting pride at the birth of your child could logically result in such a thing. you want to poster it everywhere and shout from tall buildings. love does that to people & i wouldn't want it to stop. bring it on i say! but then, my name's not mohammed.

blue moon

tonight is a blue moon, although technically that's not true.

actually a rare phenomenum & only occurring approx once every two years or so, in 2009 we are scheduled for a second full moon in the same calendar month, but it won't be until NYE. so happy blue moon for then.

in the shadow of the night, i found this tree in dark broody shades of blue projected onto a wall by a passing car's headlights. ella fitzgerald prematurely sang in my ears: the voices had returned, the pulse quickens in anticipation, equal parts excitement:fear. everything is new again.

sadly there was no moon of any hue to be seen in the sky this evening. but this is that black & blue eucalyptus tree shadow. if you look long enough you can see marlene dietrich hiding in the branches like a cheshire angel harmonising with ella on their similarly themed signature songs. women in the moon who fell to earth.

if love must be our downfall, then professor rath chose no better or more heroic way than to lose his dignity with deitrich's showgirl. surely there is no nobler cause, even if it potentially makes us ridiculous. the emmanuels & lolas of this world, despite their impaired cliche, are rockstars.

fortune and love favor the brave. -- ovid.

love grub

big veggie brekkie with free-range poached eggs, mushrooms, divine cubed potato hash, grilled tomatoes with basil, seared haloumi & steamed spinach on organic sourdough [15.00 AUD] is the perfect start to what will be a very long action-packed day.

[apparently the coffee is pretty good too]

i ♥ lovegrub.

i have to return some videotapes

,

with an appetite for fresh film fodder, a late night excursion is made to king st, newtown. like new york, this humble 4th cousin once removed, almost never sleeps. it's the 2nd runner-up to sydney's chinatown & king's cross for late night fixes, food or otherwise.

in a culture of state imposed alcohol lock-outs hitting profile bars from 02:00 - 05:00 in an effort to "control crime": it's a sorry state of affairs for sydney, a cosmopolitan city of international note, that bars shut down & restrict alcohol access [even once inside], as early as they do. curfews outside of war-time, not during prohibition, not on TV, but here, now.

there are no late night bodegas selling liquor downunder. for a nation of alleged free & easy alcoholics, our alcohol restrictions are actually rather immense.

boasting the latest legit opening bottle store in NSW [WOOT!]: the townie in newtown is open for off license to 23:45, 7 days a week [bar HC public holidays] which is well exploited by the locals who form a comfortably colorful & chill textured mix of goth, dyke, rockabilly, artist, muso & intellectual derelict. unforced street chic.

a perfect vibe without the dullness of overt shiny self-awareness: although almost everyone looks good enough to eat... patterns & rainbow hues mishmash into a wonderful kaleidescope. several peeps run amok with heads which would look good on a stick.

a redroom DVD store dispenses the movie of your choice with a quick convenient credit card swipe, no matter what the hour. the ATM-like dispensing pod stands opposite another iconic bar, the marlborough [the marly].

a local institution, i once was asked to remove my beret by the over-zealous bulldog bouncers & which i refused without intentional disrespect to the queen. they didn't appreciate "bad hair day" as an excuse. beefcake doormen are not hired for their charm, logic, fashion sense or conversational abilities. that seems to be a universal phenomena. luckily, in case of wardrobe malfunctions, there are loads of other bars...

better still there's an asian laundromat up the road + easily the best coffee in town [campos] where the aroma lures people off the street & they pack the tiny space patiently waiting for what must be pure burnt umber gold in a cup to go.

patrick bateman would love it here. he'd just have to modify his style... a bold-striped shirt does NOT call for a solid-colored or discreetly patterned suit and tie. in newtown absolutely anything goes with hush puppies.

a bright cold day in april

it was a bright cold day in april, and the clocks were striking thirteen. — george orwell, 1984 [1949]

hey nietzsche! leave them kids alone!

a book launch with a difference...

it's only fitting that craig schuftan's follow up book from the culture club stays within the genre he has so aptly lodged himself within. like joan jett [and keats before her too] screamed to the heavens, "i love rock n roll". there's no doubt that schuftan shares their sentiment. he is a romantic in the true [or at least his recently abridged] sense of the word.

as the mythic deconstructor of artistic popular culture & rock and roll, schuftan bridges the 19th century romantic movement with the 20th/21st century of popular music ie. rock and roll. it's a credible connection which explores songs of melancholia [with just a little bit of "fuck you" thrown in for good measure] and their indescribable emo link with the breakout artists, thinkers and poets of the 1800s.

the romantics introduced to society great & noble expectations of love. our modern artists have continued to act as champions to the cause where global consciousness acknowledges & celebrates emotional misery. love, the human experiential rollercoaster which binds us all. misery loves company, none greater than one's own pen/guitar.

from byron to nietzsche to bowie to my chemical romance, the degrees of separation are not nearly as great as a layman's cursory glance might reveal.

a black historical sightseeing parade would have us wandering lost in tragic celebration for the death of calmar and orla whilst nietzsche conjures up music for byron's other rockstar manfred before sarah blasko bleats out that sweet broken version of david bowie's heartfelt heroes [just for one day].

and we're only just getting started... with ben of the devoted few singing haunting renditions of the smiths & the cure at sydney's hopetoun hotel on easter monday in homage to schuftan's book, one could be forgiven for thinking that maybe christ really had risen.

to find out more join the queue with me & read hey nietzsche! leave them kids alone!

i leave you with a my chemical romance, welcome to the black parade [the new bohemian rhapsody]excerpt:

a world that sends you reeling from decimated dreams

your misery and hate will kill us all

so paint it black and take it back

let's shout it loud and clear

defiant to the end we hear the call

soylent green politics of gentrification

with urban squeeze comes gentrification. the two are inevitable & uncomfortable bedfellows. property developers after a fast buck even in times of arguable recession are the enemies of equitable housing & low socio-ecomomic urban communities.

money is an incredible motivator as is population growth which provides a precurser for dense urbanisation in areas previously considered unfit (for wealthy white "pioneers").

in some city areas in sydney & the world this has resulted in displacement of existing inhabitants. the shabby & old [often toxic] juxtapose against shiny upwardly mobile cuckoo architecture.

generally those most prone are indigenous or ethnic minorities who have traditionally resided on the industrial fringes of the city where noone before wanted to live, [once too] close to transportation, where rich diverse communities were built as best they could.

alexandria & redfern, sydney are experiencing just such a development revolution. the former homes of industry & low cost housing primarily occupied by pensioners, aboriginals & welfare beneficiaries are becoming increasingly minimised as architects, developers & town planners move in to rape & pilage, lure the natives out with blankets & alcohol before sterilisation & the importation of a new wave of cashed-up settlers. warehouse conversions are de rigueur. social conscience gets a face-lift.

this trend can recently be demonstrated in the very hip williamsburg, new york. the latinos who've been there for multiple generations can no longer afford to live in their hood as city improvements & consistently low rents have made it attractive for the nouveau hipsters who then in turn make the area more desirable, utilise the amazing "undiscovered" spaces and drive up rents.

but where do these lost civilisations go? do they like the streetwalkers & homeless people during olympics time get trucked to some western badlands or nazi labour camps to work-for-the-dole where noone can see? westernized post-modern leprosy valleys. out of sight, out of mind.

in many countries it's a punishable crime to be poor. people are incarcerated for vagrancy. what can you do when your home is taken away from you by fancy types & you just can't afford to live anymore? poverty crime is a reality.

is soylent green made out of poor people?

on the road

with jack kerouac in our collective hearts we hit the tarmac running, encased by a pregnant 2 tonne truck headed for the crisp clean mountain air of sanity.

"nice wheels", he said.

the city is behind us. the metaphoric mexican border, temporary shelter to the cussing king of psychopaths, the degraded holy goof, in sight.

sal paradise travels alongside old bull lee & carlo marx. the beat generation exhumed will conquer, flaws proudly waving like a banner to the four winds.

we ride, we ride for freedom.

hidden emerald city

yesterday i was fortunate enough to stumble upon a secret garden rich in st patrick's hues.

a lost bastion of the wild in sydney's northern suburbs, this roughcut gem is the unkempt rebel of the hood after being forgotten by its owners for the last ten years. in lane cove, this is where the wild things are.

at the end of a long drive it lies hidden amongst its manicured neighbours, playing habitat to the reptiles & spiders which slither & run amok in the wild grass. meanwhile the kitchen windows fringed in 16mm film sit silent, waiting for the wizard to return.

easter exodus

sydney over easter... strictly for the birds.

hyper-reality in check

there's a hyper-reality to the finger wharf, woolloomooloo in its picture perfect intensity dotted by the ladies & gentlemen who lunch.

not only is it the largest timber piled construction in the world, a reign which has remained constant for almost 100 years, but it has humble esteemed beginnings of not only welcoming imported wool into australia but also masses of migrants. the welcoming port of call for two and four legged beasts.

these days it's home to a number of pseudo celebrities with both actors nicole kidman, russell crowe & radio personality john laws keeping apartments in the long multi-gabled complex.

on a bright autumn day the blue skies reflect brilliantly true into the sea beneath the bay which still permeates an unmistakable shore stench which no political or pious correctness can thankfully overcome. we are on a wharf. hyper perhaps but still very real.