patterns in nature

space is uniformly spread out. it is the same here and everywhere else. we become aware of how that spreading of space affects our immediate environment when we play with a piece of modeling clay. et al.

a walk around urban spaces reveal still the secrets of patterns in the innocuous. this is nothing but a meniscual bite on the way to my fave coffee hang love grub with mobile phone [AKA completely inept N95 - no hard feelings NOKIA] in hand this morning. but still am humbled by the beauty.

of all the constraints of space, the most far searching. for space itself has a structure that influences the shape of every existing thing.

HT. peter s stevens.

haiku: guilt of the abused

dirty. ashamed.

less in your eyes. which reflect.

bruised. don't look at me.

the truth about birds vs humans

…or how punk monk propaganda cracked the marketer’s code.

not long after midday yesterday a woman i'd never seen before came to the corner shop door [punk monk propaganda HQ]. she was a non-descript yet attractive blonde in her mid 30s with kindly mischief in her eyes. she asked for confirmation of my address. curious whilst cautiously hoping to avoid a court summons [which has happened before] i agreed that she did indeed have the correct address and yes, i am victoria waghorn AKA AWOL MONK.

she then handed me an old gun metal green box with an apparently worn tag bearing my name & promptly disappeared into the gentrified industrial scape.

carrying the box inside to the studio where fellow punk monk, felix & i had previously been working i opened the box after turning over the tag which said “more to come…”

this is what i found:

with heart in mouth following the instructions on the unrolled parchment, i ventured onto the interwebs & with great intrigue skipped along after the virtual trail of crumbs expecting to find my dear versatile talented oft bereft punk monks at the very end. turn up the sound…

tears bled from my eyes thinking my wildest wet dreams of deity-appointed special selection in true bi-polar episodic fantasia in a post-apocalyptic world had finally materialised. i am the chosen one. no matter what happened next this had to be the most excellent intermedia PR launch which reeked of punk monk-esque MO even after realising that the awesome flash could be modified so perhaps it wasn’t all about me after all. reality check. not a clever undisclosed ambush campaign by my people, my kind perhaps after all, but eerily close to our developing strategies. who are we to copyright rather than left?

text from site splash reads: on thursday october 1 2009, selected blogs and sites received the first of two packs that will unravel the story of birds vs humans. be watchful and stay alert. your kind needs you.

what ensued upon viewing the site was an afternoon of collaborative punk monk interwebs investigation. many sites and leads were trawled as 2 + 2 was added and we attacked the horse by the jugular bypassing the mouth: net result = result. as X files, mulder says : the truth is out there [but might not be for long if they follow our advice].

the crumbs led to graffiti tags around the city [2 have been observed outside punk monk’s corner shop in alexandria] which were first observed a few weeks back when we were in possible world’s magic mushroom party graffiti launch mode ourselves, at the time it was passed off as a related test by an errant monkey… here’s the remnants of ours:

by yesterday afternoon i knew who was behind the viral campaign without still being fully aware what product exactly this elaborate slew was being deigned to launch using an army of underground social media hipsters like myself integrally tied to the gutter zeitgeist as far afield as berlin to sydney. i’m still surprised so far that we at punk monk are not only the first but only peeps to crack the birds versus humans [before selling out].

we salute your illegality & disrespect for rules in true independent eco-terrorist guerrilla spirit. graffiti is art. the joy of opening a mystery box filled with objects from a forest floor is unparalleled. especially when coupled with zombie pics & a nest of freshly laid speckled eggs. my inner child does somersaults to your beat thus remains impossibly still with sealed lips on the sidelines.

existing media channels are for suckers and neglect to burgeon independent lateral thought. punk monk strongly support utilising intermedia waves as championed through our monthly subculture serial events: ALGAE RHYTHM. the marketers mirror our tricks & did it in a way that does not outshine garishly. hat tip. i wondered briefly whether we should feel used, our identity compromised… but instead embrace the universal consciousness & hug it tighter.

today i spoke to the savvy street smart identities behind the clever branding device which has firmly enconsed itself into the popular tweeting vernacular by creating desire, what any ingenious marketing ploy aims to achieve but increasingly fails at in originality in an oversaturated ADD ridden universe. after congratulating the underground niche sydney agency on their awesome campaign, i led into a brief admonishment on their clumsiness [what others called arrogance] in failing to cover their splattered bird shit which didn’t just land on selected blogger’s individualised flash site pix. obviously they need us on their team. ;)

as a lover of magic and ardent admirer of outside social media strategies, i have agreed not to destroy the campaign and traded off our cooperation but can confirm as we all know it is a heinously sexy viral campaign to launch… something. more will be revealed before the 12.10 which is this coming monday. more of the survivalist trail of the armageddon-like reality of birds vs humans will be found on a television near you this sunday prime time. and then the next wave to bloggers like myself will roll in the day after…

i have my roll of gaffer tape & interrogation lamp ready for when that sexy blonde arrives back on my doorstep. but first this cuckoo will have to get off my fine clutch of eggs. perhaps on monday they’ll begin to hatch?

unwelcome stowaway

thanks to a well placed note and a misplaced cat this oversized rodent narrowly missed a triple monkish death after not managing to avoid three cats and the naked footprint of one davey cheng this morning.

this enterprising shall we say, rat's brief sojourn from my infested mountain hideaway for the giddy neon city lights via a well packed car trunk was brief indeed once it crept from its well hidden baggage cache. it never knew what hit/stood on it. or certainly not by the time i found it via the excellent diagram warning system.

this little guy and his friends have singlehandedly eaten an almost entire cabin and contents including S bends... he must have been hoping a city move would supplement his growing penchant for plastic or even offer a greener pasture or two. sadly he died on the astro turf rug on the corner shop floor. close enough perhaps.

a porn film in just 69 minutes! and that's not all...

this is rachel. she lives in my bedroom. she is my friend.

last night [well technically yesterday morning between the hours of 02:00 & 04:00] in lieu of other much more artistic concepts not materialising for a myriad of rather dull reasons, we made a porn film together. a really bad one. although, come to think of it i'm not sure that there are any good ones.

the reason is because my good friend darryl who runs darryl's hard liquor and porn film festival over in toronto was running a 69 hour film challenge which i'd agreed to do but sort of forgotten about whilst juggling a broken back and other film/media responsibilities.

with only 6 hours or so before deadline i finally had a new idea so instead of sleeping and with a little help armed with my daughter's dildo [hi raen] managed to pull something together. after all, that's what friends & family are for...

i give you the lamest stop motion porn film ever...

last night it shared consecutive world premieres at sydney KINO and the hard liquor and porn fest in toronto at the comedy bar on boor st with a bunch of much more, um, worthy films i'm sure. next year i'll do better. promise. next year rachel will inflate!

thanks to abe, flexi & michael for their invaluable fluffer skills.

debbie does... [h264] from punk monk propaganda on vimeo.

haiku: two shadows bleeding

two shadows bleeding

banished walls long since unseen

sun lights us within

perfectly on quay

if these pictures do not paint the thousands of superlatives which would embrace the quay dining experience then i may as well drown in opiate induced bliss now. buried in painkillers, it's hard to do justice to the crisp sublime poetry which is the detailed delicacy of quay. that peter gilmore is an artist of the highest order is not up for debate.

winning on crowd pleasing stakes this has to be a mandatory stopover on the sydney visitor dining circuit with perfect harbour views, edible haute couture which soothes all the senses & excite the nerves simultaneously delivered with the soft invisibility defining the perfect white table-clothed environment which juxtapose the mirrored curves beyond the glasses walls to the opera house beyond over the deep blue sea.

i'm only sorry when i burst my lunch bubble at the quay i did so not aware that i'd crushed my spine en route location scouting whilst coming off second best with an accursed tree & the experience was marred by shooting sensations up my legs and arms as my back began to scream unanswered for attention as i distractedly chowed down on my free lunch. needless to say i still finished my glistening plate of magical sea pearls before hitting up the x-ray booth...

there'll undoubtedly be a next time to savour the perfect hospitality & orgasmic food. my only gripe: as a non-meat eater i was severely shepherded by the menu & would have preferred to have more choice. what i did experience however was unquestionably divine. call me a straw divider, and while you're there please also order another of those nirvana sent desserts...

haiku: kyoko-chi reflects

golden pavilion

sweeping snow-flaked garden crone

kyoko-chi reflects

street signs

assuming that a pair of nikes hanging from the wire on a street corner is implicitly understood in subculture speak as the territorial markings of a local drug dealer: what does it mean when an alarm clock is added?

hybristophiles

a few fab punk monks braved the trek into the wilderness with me on the weekend to make a film in the international 48HR film project [28HRFP]. packed into two cars we disappeared bushward into the night after being assigned a genre, line of dialogue, a character & prop to integrate into a film to be entirely created from friday to sunday within an exact controlled time-frame.

genre = film de femme

object = torch

character = jemma gordon, a writer

line of dialogue = "one of these days you're going to realise i'm right".

kudos to ky, felix, michael, mischa, davey, andrew & cat for coping with the extreme elements which we endured, not least the inconstant weather compounded by dealing with an evil director/producer spiralling between crushed spine pain [a tree fell on me while we were location scouting] resulting in "...several wedge compression fractures with greater than 25% height loss anteriorly in the mid to lower thoracic spine. no definite repulsion of fragments is seen" and an opiate induced other worldly state. good times.

to try to make myself feel better & to ensure everyone suffered for the art, i made sure that everyone else shared the misery [but not the codeine] & tried as best i could to turn the project into another faux snuff movie. sadly it looks like both ky & davey will recover from their hypothermia. cat too didn't seem to mind enduring the tortuous conditions but then she didn't vomit all over herself. this begs the question will they all return for a third film...

the proof as they say is in the pudding. a kind of red-blooded guide to newly weds. a marriage manual of sorts. watch this space for screening news. 48HRFP films will screen at paddo RSL wednesday october 07. also the director's cut film inspired by the 48HRFP will screen at KINO this coming monday.

brokeback monk

went on what we call a location reccie yesterday for pending film project with some of the boys [mischa, felix & michael]. we stayed in the bush overnight chasing the debri of the infamous sydney sandstorm before us.

stopping at a local country pub when we were on the brink of reaching our destination, the bartender told us that the hailstones which had followed the sandstorm had been the size of tennis balls & had knocked her garden frolicking puppy unconscious. she watched helplessly behind the safety of closed doors watching her car window screen smashed as her puppy lay being pelted by relentless rocks of ice [apparently it scrubbed up good since! um, OK...].

in the wake of the storm we hurried off to our mountain retreat and sat out the rain as it moistened our late night post-apocolyptic outdoor BBQ battle with the giant rats. stephen king would have had nightmares if faced with what we encountered on arrival.

using a large tin from the pantry to soften a rusty generator lock we were overwhelmed by the incredible stomach ripping stench which permeated from my cold pressed organic olive oil tin which had had the plastic lid chewed off by possibly man-sized rodents judging by the size of their souvenir shit & trail of destruction. seems they love plastic. en masse. to our horror we realised that they'd made it in... but not out. of. the. tin. coles might not be promoting our new line of anti-pasto rotting rat anytime soon but the aroma was well pungent enough to compete with some of the riper cheeses i've had the privilege to experience in france. one thing with all that quality oil, them bush mice certainly don't squeak anymore.

chasing deadlines we flew [as best one can in erm, questionably roadworthy truck] today back to the city to be further impeded by more fallen trees. somehow this one pictured above managed to literally break my back even though it had already fallen. it fell a second time once we moved it off the road. unfortunately on me. still it wasn't enough to hold me back from a free lunch in the city [review to come].

now amidst 48 hour film prep and a bunch of other stuff i have vertebrate x-rays etc to schedule tomorrow after being diagnosed with two possible broken vertebrates after the wine at the quay failed to hit the right spot.

so... if you ever want to visit us up in the mountains at the punk monk cabin & you want a free lunch, just ask for the jus de BBQ rodent & we'll oil up the barbie for you. just don't ask me to move any kamikaze trees. i only deal in rats.

[pix by punk monk felix pflieger]

post-apocalyptic skies

september 23, 2009. NSW. a red haze consumes NSW, australia. a great day for my camera to die...

YES!

this weekend sat/sun/mon is a hellishly packed fun time for us punk monks. we're essentially in three places almost at once: with three different major events sucking us up in space & time.

with ALGAE RHYTHM 0:05 [portals curated by clare & alex] looming on the not so distant horizon, a small sexy psychedelic 70s fundraiser party starring kate, alex, davey & the something for porno DJ crew in conjunction with marshmallow productions at sydney film school for pending ALUMNI film production "kelly's blues", we have our hands full without throwing an international 48 hour film challenge into the mix. but we are.

the 48 hour film project kicks off this friday: with a plump handful of the remaining talented punk monk tribe [ky, dermot, felix, michael, davey, mischa, andrew & dan] i'll be writing, shooting, editing a film within that timeframe in the hope to vie off against the best hardened fast & furious filmmakers to represent sydney at the 48 hour film project's filmapalooza - the international screening & awards show in LA early 2010.

what else is there to do in a weekend we ask you?

[pic: punk monk michael prechtl, poster: felix pflieger]

liquid light show launch

friday evening last. the hopetoun. kate & alex bring the wonder of the punk monk propaganda psychochemical experience as first experienced at their curated ALGAE RHYTHM 0:02 in the final days of the warehouse.

the first of many future collaborations with sydney band, hailer & the launch of the liquid light show event calendar outside of the confines of our own studio run walls... needless to say it was a huge alchemic success.

fellow punk monks; clare, felix & michael were there to soak up the iridescent matmos & record the experience for all posterity long after i disappeared into the night.

pix by punk monk, michael prechtl.

burning bridges

today a small handful of my drinking buddies ran the blackmores running festival's flagship event, the sunday telegraph body + soul bridge run [doesn't sponsorship make for un-succinct copy?]. in what became blistering conditions friends & flesh cats; ky, raen, & andrew with only extensive beer/wine/whisky arm training joined 33, 000 others & um, decided to subject our bodies to an altogether different kind of abuse. 9kms is an excellent cure-all hangover technique. i think it's called pain transference.

with firmly strapped feet, i joined them in the ultimate asthma attack impersonation to survive the completer finisher ranks on the harbour foreshore opposite the opera house after starting on the other side & running over the closed off sydney harbour bridge.

the crown in the jewel of the running races was the sydney marathon [42kms] which appeared to feature peeps of notably higher fitness calibre to ourselves with slightly more rounded training regimes. the marathon was taken out by winning kenyan runner julius seurei in a time of 2 hours, 17 minutes and seven seconds. that's um, 1km in 3.18 minutes... quite a lengthy sprint. as a reality check we ran 9kms in around an hour in a fast fashionably paced "yog", something between an uphill crawl/downhill jog [you saw it here first -- wait for it to go viral].

on completion, after subjecting the god-sent three minute angels to our toxic sweat [lucky them, apologies to your colleagues clare], & following the repeated beration by the woman in the corporate sunday tele tent who put seinfeld's soup nazi to shame taking pride of sausage sizzle catering to new hedonistic over-possesive heights: we did what had to be done when permanently denied the juice we desperately craved... we went & drank more beer. apparently there's a half marathon coming up. we do have our training to consider after all.

pix by punk monk michael prechtl