we are the revolution

this is what the television networks and newspapers are not broadcasting.

angela

this morning 

i walked 

into public 

toilets

- you lay

shaking in corner

back against the wall

dead eyes

in a pool 

of blood

on the floor

yours

two 

suicide addicts

held gaze
superficial separation

bonded strangers

i asked

- as you bled

into

cold concrete

the congealed red

treacle unreal

mine

"what happened?"

you told me 

i knew

- it's true

i became

society blanketed

them not us 

divided i drove

to buy aspirin 

your secret

in the news

ours

surprised

by my return

i said my name

- victoria

accused with 

stained razor

cast beside cheap 

beach towel edges 

lapped by red waves

of generating media 

storm weathered

theirs

broken sneer 

"it's only a try"

i pointed out

angry arm wounds

and showed

my outside scars

- a litre of blood

freshly butchered

thick and sticky

a fly skimmed 

becoming stuck on

you

shared code

you relaxed 

a little, asked

"am i psychic?"

i said

"a little", your 

penetrating stare

was accompanied 

by words, "a lot"

felt fingers 

dial 000

them

waiting

for sirens

we spoke of 

reinvention

crying

you said "i don't

live here anymore".

"it's a shitty town anyway"

i laughed

avoiding psych nurse

sycophant overtones

me

the ambos said

to give you

fake details

before i left

she wrote sarah

but i changed it

the sick and poor

are people too

even when drowning

in scarlet lies

- your name is 

angela

fly in, fly out

welcome to perth. capital city of the australian resources boom, the centre of gravity on the west coast which in many ways echoes the spirit of original mining mentalities throughout history. my new sometime home base as i amongst others seek personal fame & fortune buying into the ubiquitous fly in, fly out culture at the expense of the environment, one way or another. it may as well be us right...

at least i wake up somewhere beautiful each morning. this is my preferred spot. i can often be found here. location, location, location.

unless it was this morning which was some dodgy car park wedged between an anaconda megastore & super-sized botanica sports bar which is somehow through the randomness of the universe where i landed with my sister to sequentially carve up dance floors, drown in vodka, buy rounds of tequila & make new friends who fresh & flush with affluence match glass for glass & slices of lemon mass rounds of mescal. work hard, party hard culture is rife.

sometime soon i will wake up back here again in a world of focussed sanity, sheltered under the silhouette of the trees which frame the sleeping city beyond as wildlife i don't recognise gather around me singing their strange song. 


in the meantime i'm stuck in no [wo]man's land counting down hours of escape to stagger back to the serene cityscape & then to my adopted east coast hometown to my faerie daughter named for the weather, disfigured alien who thinks he's peter pan, cyborg wife, gay lover who won't allow me to touch his arms, myriad of lost boys & a bunch of beloved punk monks. there really is no substitute for family.

observation of verbs: merge

merge
1. to cause to combine or coalesce; unite
2. to combine, blend or unite gradually so as to blur the individuality or individual identity of.

this is a cancer cell image i found on the interwebs. the copyright is not mine. does it look like me?

exactly who is the monster here?

Watch live streaming video from democracynow at livestream.com

love made me a crack whore

life is full

life

is full
------>

of irony

becoming that which you despise. happily.

 once

i scorned

happiness

      now

i have

 become 

       it

uncontainable in every way

what happens in the container stays in the container...

we [punk monk propaganda] had an art installation at sydney university as part of our verge festival presence this year [we also curated the opening party with major raiser]. the shipping containers were dumped on campus and we were fortunate enough to be granted one to play with for the duration of the fest.

paste-up container photo copyright: konsumterra

this is what the exterior of our container looked like thanks to much loved street artists konsumterra & boots who kindly sexed it up for us. inside was an entirely different matter and quite a separate conversation which will be pursued later. 

it all started when kate taylor started thinking in UV & i was channeling shamanistic temples. somehow by closing night we were at naked roller derby girls and paint. quite an obvious progression really. 

ky-lee menzies is not as innocent as she looks in any of the matters above. but this is a well earned beer. because unbeknownst to us by the end of the festival, all the paste-ups had to come down...

it took the punk monk chicks six hours collectively to scrape those suckers off. while i gadded about at my art exhibition opening they did the hard yards. i dropped by with buckets & grabbed a couple of peace-keeping snaps en route. the air was damp & heavy.

although these hotties manage to make the task look vaguely fun, it wasn't nearly as much as what happened the night before [see below]. and that's before we got under the lights.

a test cut of my little avant garde punk monk film G.L.O.W. will be projection bombed on the back streets of tortuga studios, st peters for in the night garden at sydney fringe festival this friday. 

it's a whole different POV of roller derby girls. uncontainable & unforgettable. 

now that we've escaped the threatened charges of public indecent exposure & the glue stains have worn off one thing is for certain: roller derby girls meet punk monk chicks are extremely good sorts/sports. at least the ones we play naked painted ladies with.

hold infinity in the palm of your hand

the best part about rolling a joint in a field of mirth...

and gazing down amongst the oversized seed pods into the valley beyond

is smoking it.

then rolling around & running amok afterwards

before descending down to the mountains edge to drive even further away from civilisation.

"to see a world in a grain of sand

and a heaven in a wild flower,

hold infinity in the palm of your hand

and eternity in an hour."

- william blake

i am a freak

having fun together makes a party!

this is just what it's like behind the scenes at punk monk propaganda. the secret to our event success!

T minus 4 hours

missed the plane twice already... 
guess i don't really want to leave you.


jet plane from punk monk propaganda on vimeo.

glittering generalities...

anomie

i'm part of a group exhibition as a subset of the marrickville contemporary art prize soon. which is an incredible inner west initiative championed by ATVP gallery where i've exhibited a couple of times before. 


my concept was literally thrown together on deadline & and was surprisingly short-listed into the exhibition. short version = i am duly honoured to be featured at ESP gallery in the fringe dwellers exhibition in fine company. launch date ie. let's drink wine together = sept 10. daytime. BYO: rose coloured glasses.


my film project is entitled "anomie". it's a short experimental film & series of images utilising my bank of lovingly inherited 16mm found footage fused with experimental original noise composed specifically for the piece. that will be today. ahem. here's a sneak preview before i furiously go to work on the project for the next 24 hours.


leaving town in forty hours or so means it's another rush piece. is there any other way? labour terrifies me.

MCAP’11 fringe dwellers
ESP gallery 
228 illawarra rd, marrickville
sept 8-25, launch sat sept 10, 4-6pm