you're exposed

you're exposed
like an old tired
piece of super 8
which would 
have been great
in the 70s
but now
is not
- no machine
with knowledge
will touch you
but still
you try to beguile
with your
age-old
colour curves
and poppy
glamour
the gates
are rusted
and retired
you can
flaunt your wiles
for awhile
but
eventually
everyone
will know
you're 
outdated
- nostalgia
only lasts
so long

haiku: golden sunflower

golden sunflower
ginsberg's words: our minds meld in
soulful explosion

label free symbiosis

flatline

love letter [straight from the gutter]

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

dinosaurs 'R' us - a [r]evolutionary reimagining

a peek at the behind the scenes process + chaotic source book of inspiration:


i'm working on a new project for punk monk propaganda right now to be unveiled tomorrow night at jurassic lounge. a stop motion episodic tale of earth, evolution, religion, consumerism, oh and dinosaurs. 


it's an ongoing collaboration between myself & and the incredibly talented & bodacious craig bunker AKA bunkwaa. AWOL monk meets bunkwaa. again. we've been hanging out together a bit of late. naturally we're way behind schedule which completely normalises things. i'm not sure who is worse. it's a tough call.

it didn't help that my car set on fire as we drove through newtown in search of art supplies & food to sustain us on our epic journey yesterday. we're pretty pissed off that we left the corner shop studio practically naked. ie. no cameras or phones. in this obsessive social media age that means it did not happen.

this faux pax will not be repeated. yesterday was a minefield of missed film opportunities. so last night i grafted my DSLR directly into my torso fused with chocolate mousse & marscapone, so now my entire life can be captured through a 50mm lens lomo style. shooting through skin is a bit like using vaseline. a 1980s soft porn karaoke clip. 

in the meantime the car lies abandoned somewhere off king street with a note attached to her windscreen. when i rescue her later today to be towed to the mechanic belated pics will be taken. not nearly as impressive as flames & clouds of black smoke snapping & billowing furiously & would be rescuers and small town heroes however. it's all rather anti-climactic. 

thank you bianca who heroicly jumped back in the car which no longer turned off as the flames melted all the wires, stalled the car, wielded a screwdriver rather aptly, the guy from the poster shop who convinced us to get out of the car prior as stupified we listened to the car continue to flame with engine continue to run after it had been turned off [hello steven king], and called the police [bunkwaa didn't have the number for ghostbusters], not to mention the unnamed girl from the cafe who provided the screwdriver & helped push us past the townie in the hub of sunday pseudo summer traffic... aah, good times.

after that we had to drink. and buy trash magazines. shaken nerves demanded soothing. the promise of a bloody mary offered the only restorative respite i could identify in the thought bubble which jutted out out my head. bunkwaa was not wont to disagree as we pored over images of mirada kerr & homegirl picture porn [a quality publication]. BTW. it was great bumping into the roller derby chick [hello kila newtown #12kN] i'd been bonding with the night before at the newsagent with a wad of cheap ass pulp under my arm & picture magazine on the top of the pile. classy. 

all part of our crazed misadventure. and ultimately provided additional inspiration in our creative process. um, at the bar slash bars. it all seems such a blur now.

and now we work... or try to stymied by a series of bad CS5 cracks. serenaded by strauss's blue danube. later to be joined by the rest of the punk monk tribe. one glorious hive-mind.


i love mondays.