Friday, January 29, 2021

someone left a case out in the rain




I know it was silly but when I saw this case in the park, shut and laid down carefully, I thought well look there's no way the person who put it there didn't know that it was in some way an invitation to look inside it. And I thought that is kind of suspicious. I almost looked inside it, actually, but instead I called the police, in the spirit of, I wonder what they will say/do.

The guy I spoke to at the North Melbourne police station had never heard of Ievers Reserve (two minutes from the PS), of Gatehouse Street (ditto), or seemingly even of suitcases. Maybe he was very, very tired. He asked 'do you think it's suspicious?' and I sort of hedged around that, because the obvious response is a sarcastic 'no, this was just an opening gambit in a casual chat', but then it occurred to me that perhaps 'suspicious' was a trigger word. So I said yes it was. Anyway I told him where it was and went on to the public records office, where I spent the morning looking at court documents for Raymond Borg and meeting minutes for the decentralisation of government departments in Victoria 1972-3. Passing by again four hours later, it was in the same place I had last seen it, seemingly untouched. [Shrugs]

Update next day: I won't bore you with a picture, just these words: I walked past it again this morning and it had been opened. It was/is a camera case I think, whether it had anything in it yesterday is unclear but it would have been hard to stuff it full of money or corpse parts with all that moulded foam rubber. I could have saved the police a lot of trouble (of talking to me on the phone) by looking inside but of course I was troubled by the possibility of it being $100 000 of drug cash, and what I would then do with said drug cash, clearly I'd have to take it somewhere and bury it for a decade, and that would just be a major fucking hassle wouldn't it. 

the blue mask


Well I'm just going to say it, this was the first Lou Reed album I heard and it was the time that it occurred to me that, well, this Lou Reed is probably pretty terrible. The song 'Women', which let's be frank, is excruciatingly bad, and the song about JFK, which is also insanely poor, are the only two I actually remember, but do you know now I'm thinking of it I actually think that perhaps I heard the whole album played on the radio when it came out, in a kind of promotional shizzle. Maybe not, maybe I just heard big bits of it on RRR or something. Anyway, I actually don't give a loose root about The Blue Mask. This is what I think of these days when I think of blue masks (this is all today's crop - well technically yesterday's, a few hours ago though):




So I may not have mentioned that since the beginning of the year, since I have been walking a lot (not the 20 000 steps a day I was doing late last year, but 10 000 - actually an average of about 11 000 a day) I decided that it would be more interesting and also more productive if I did something about it so I pick up a lot of rubbish. I put it in bags and bin it. 

Now, there's a lot of gross stuff out there in the world but the three grossest IMO are masks (#1, because they've been over someone's mouth and they probably stink), fast food i.e. KFC and McDonalds packaging, and Coke cans/cups/bottles because, I guess, well, I just hate Coke and I always have. It's all foul but the masks freak me out the most. I just can't imagine people just pulling their masks off in the street and throwing them to the ground, I haven't seen it happen, but it apparently does happen, at least, these things are everywhere. 

Once again I find myself feeling I must be the naivest of the naive because I don't understand a society where people recognise the value, apparently, of wearing a mask but not the value of throwing a disposable mask in the bin - !!! I actually have found a few non-disposable masks, too, so I guess some of them just get dropped by accident, which I kind of understand. But still. What the hell people. 

I don't have anything more to say than this. Except that Lou Reed song about women is execrable. If I was a woman I would sue him. Unless it's a joke? I wonder if Laurie Anderson ever heard it. Maybe she figured she could love him better if she didn't listen to his back catalogue.

Thursday, January 28, 2021

28 jan 2006 good times (probably)

 

What a fabulous poster. I am pretty pleased with this. The show was 15 years ago today. 

Monday, January 25, 2021

mid to late jan 2011

25 Jan 2011: I am trying to start the habit of blogging into the future. If I keep this up I will NEVER REALLY DIE, at least not in blogworld, except of course my blog posts into the future will eventually run out and then I WILL REALLY DIE. I wonder what blogger actually 'is' and whether it will outlive me.
I am in the final throes (I hope) of finishing my short book currently known as The Bogan Delusion. I am at the point where I am 4/5 finished but feeling a crisis of confidence, now being so immersed in what I have to say that I feel like it's not worth saying and uncertain whether I believe it or not. I am at the point where I have railed against class hatred, but then go on to talk about why I have every reason to feel class hatred if anyone does. I'm glad I wrote that down, it now seems a lot more easy to deal with.
I am also over where I would expect to be word count wise at this point in the book, so I can start pruning and culling a bit, which is a relief and a pleasure. This morning I have taken Barry and Charlie out, put some washing on the line, put some clothes away, thrown some mouldy things out that were in the fridge, and fussed around on the internet putting up pictures of Barry etc - time wasting.
I wonder what it will be like in 10 years' time and whether every second conversation will be about Facebook. Annabel last week said she was fed up with facebook and it was a great relief to not have it in her life and I thought about this for a couple of days and then emailed her saying however much you hate/blame the messenger you are cut out of people's lives if you don't get involved in things like that. Hopefully in 10 years we won't be talking about it constantly however.

Sunday, January 24, 2021

today will be bad, tomorrow worse


I'm talking in terms of heat. Tomorrow is going to hit 40 apparently, today only mid-30s, which is bad enough. I'm never entirely sure how to endure these kinds of days/heatwaves but of course they do end eventually (hold the front page). I have some stupid admin to do so I'm just going to spend my day doing things like that, and whining. 

Thursday, January 21, 2021

box of crap #20, 21, 22



Three disparate items. The top image is one of a bunch of photocopies of stuff from a Chads Tree scrapbook, lightly annotated. I don't have the slightest clue why I have this stuff, although it just occurred to me that it *may* have had something to do with the Chads Tree compilation CD - did I write something for that? I might have. Or I was asked to and it wasn't used. Either way I might have said is there some gumpf, or perhaps some bumpf, I can look through for ideas/detail? Because that would enrich the whole. So perhaps that's why I had that. 

The second thing is fairly self-explanatory, a classic Mia handbill for a show and a very fine line-up, I miss the Paper Planes and Marika was such a great songwriter, and probably indeed still is. 

The last picture I hesitate to share, it's one of a few along those lines, of me in the 1960s. I was having a great time clearly. I have these pictures and I am not entirely certain by what channel they came to me but they belonged to one of my grandmothers I am fairly sure and I retain them not through sentimentality about myself as a young child but because I loved both my grandmothers and I miss them (in a very different way to the way I miss Paper Planes). 

women's protest against trump 21 jan 2017





Wednesday, January 20, 2021

helmi

It is a real drink. I tried to buy some from Euroliquor but their order procedure gummed up on me. It's probably gross. I mainly only drink drinks that taste like tar or liquorice (or both) these days. 

Tuesday, January 19, 2021

bogart co

 

I am a bit into Bogart Co who were a Turku new romantic pop band from the 1980s who had six albums in six years (83-89) and really took on every trope of the period. I won't link to the videos because links aren't forever but I recommend you find them. 'Princess' might be the best, the video in particular, with all the great themes: people disappearing into thin air, the photo booth, the ballerina. Look, it resonated for me.  


Someone could do an incredible analysis of the terror in the eyes of everyone who made these records and everyone who bought them, particularly the sort of garish aryanness of Bogart Co. But for all that I reckon they actually did pop pretty well on what was probably a fairly small budget. I'll give them kudos for doing it in English too - which at least didn't restrict them from the Anglosphere although I don't think they had any records released (t)here, but you know, they probably sold some records in Latvia or Poland or something (who knows. Maybe the politics of the period, and I don't just mean the iron curtain politics, made that unlikely). 

The debut album cover (first image at the top) really says it all, I mean it is so dinky - so obviously dinky - that it's kind of saying 'ok, we're Finnish, we have the population of a medium sized city in our whole country, it's all going to be small' (also I bet there was a lot of pushback against a 'Finnish Duran Duran' or whatever from the real musicians)... but it didn't mean they couldn't have fun and get into the conversation. 

I'm going to project that they were probably a bit like Indecent Obsession, they just wanted to get a foothold in the industry, show their chops, make a bit of money/have some pop star sex (that was probably not the easiest thing to do with impunity in a small world like Finland but also, people in Finland were and are open minded about such things) and then move on into production or real estate. Good time not a long time.

'It's all good'. 

Monday, January 18, 2021

clicking noises

I have a clock, it's battery powered and I assume that its loud ticking is faux, like, a recorded noise it broadcasts. I am usually impervious to it but when I hear it I find it mildly irritating (not enough to do anything about it - like I said, mildly). Stupidly I often forget I have a clock in here (as loud as it is) so when I want to know the time I go looking for it on my phone, my computer or the LED clock radio in the bedroom, or I look into Nancy's eyes where she shows where a display conveys where we are between 6am breakfast time and 5pm dinner time (or the other way around). 

I also have some things in the corner which click. I think one of them is the timer on a bedsight light I have put in the window, a sick looking panda, who I have set up to look out on the street like a sick panda lighthouse every night around midnight for a couple of hours. I don't know how that timer works, presumably it is electric, in some fashion. It probably expends more power restricting the flow of electricity to the sick panda light than it would if it were just turned off 'at the wall'. But the clicking might also be something to do with the heater. Which isn't on, by the way, but is I guess always lurking. That clicking is close to the noise you get in your ear when something is really wrong with your head. You know that noise? 

There are a lot of birds around here, which is great, and some are the chirping kind and others are the ones that sound like the sort of noise that you could slow down a little (or otherwise deepen) and put a bit of echo on and they'd be dinosaur noises for a film. Last night as I was trying to sleep, there were noises either of someone breaking into the house (I wonder) or the possums in the roof (slightly more likely) or people downstairs doing things (probably most likely) but I analysed every noise (without actually getting up to do anything about investigating - experience tells me that's always unproductive). 

And that's my meditation on noises as I sit here. Should I have written a poem? Not too late. 

Sunday, January 17, 2021

thea

17 Jan 2011: My dear friends Kathryn and Deirdre had a baby today called Thea. They sent me a picture of her and I hope they don't mind me publishing it. Thea is very clean and has a big tube on her which I assume is the umbilical cord. I wish all three (27 including animals) of them great joy and prosperity.

Thursday, January 14, 2021

box of crap # umpteen


This tin, probably a biscuit tin from about 80+ years ago is rusty, ugly, basically a nasty thing to have around. Why do I have it, why do I still have it after identifying it as such? Why did I briefly think 'well, I could use this to put pens in' or whatever I thought? It's gross, and if I saw it on the footpath, I wouldn't look at it twice. I certainly wouldn't pick it up. Some things you end up keeping because you've kept them. Ugh, I started thinking this might extend to friendships, and of course being me I didn't think 'who do I retain as a useless, rusty, ugly, nasty friend I should logically jettison' and instead I thought 'who retains me as a useless, ugly...' etc.

Anyway, binning this today. I mean unless you want it. 

Wednesday, January 13, 2021

grappling with a chapter

I don't want to go into detail but I have been wrestling (or, OK, grappling) with a sample chapter for a book proposal for some weeks (if not longer) now and finding it atypically difficult to manage, engaging on a conceptual level but rather hard to see the big picture, and now, too close to the whole to really be certain whether it's any good. As I explained to my father today (he's in hospital, forced to listen to my cogitating) the challenge is to be broad, yet to have the requisite content, to avoid anything culturally specific, and to explore/evoke some challenging themes. In short, to be all things to all people.

In a way, it is coming together, but in another way, I feel like the more I knead and tweak it the more slippery it becomes. I don't know, maybe that's a good thing. You tell me.

I have already exceeded the very tight word count, and I have to write a conclusion, which is possibly the hardest bit of all. That's tonight's task, along with two thousand more steps. 

Meanwhile the box of crap languishes. 

Tuesday, January 12, 2021

box of crap - various bits of scrawled-on paper

The start thing to do might be to just take the whole box of crap and throw it in the bin without looking at it any more, as it is just bothering me. 

I hesitate to show you this really excrutiatingly laboured comic strip outline, but I guess we said we had no secrets from each other. This is going in the recycling in a minute anyway. And yet, it lives here to my shame forever more. 

The next one does not even make sense to me:
This one I guess is... a thing? 
Don't know what I was doing here - ink on tracing paper:

The sad fact is, this is not even the worst of them, I just got sick of photographing them. Sorry. I guess it's too late to say, 'don't even bother reading this'

Monday, January 11, 2021

box of crap - treasure # 14, a copy of mx

mx was a shit piece of garbage 'newspaper' that used to be made available to commuters, until 2015 when I guess it was clear everyone was just going to stare at their phones for the conceivable future and someone at newscorp who teleconferenced with Murdoch once a year - yes, that close to god - said 'let's shut this down and see if anyone notices'. Once again, I am only left wondering why, when filling a box full of crap apparently 12 or so years ago, I opted to throw this issue of mx from 20 May 2008, into the crap. It is possible that I had already kept it a while and figured I must have done so for some reason other than no reason. Maybe I thought 'I'll enjoy this in the future' (I was wrong). Maybe there was actually something in here that made me think 'this is important to archive' (in which case, I should have somehow made this clear to my future self). 

I would like to tell you some of the things that happened then, from its actual pages, but unfortunately Helmi has decided to sit partially on it so I can't get access to it at the moment. 
Bummer but I know you'll understand. Oh, there is this one thing I photographed previously, which might give you some insight into why mx was a shit paper that should not have existed:
Laziest of the lazy. I can't really imagine how this could have been more lazy than it is. Obviously whoever did this voxpop for this day used the first three people they came across, and the only arguably non-lazy bit of the whole is the designer's (?) decision to separate the two blow-in boys from each other, which probably came from a policy of boy-girl-boy or girl-boy-girl, rather than anything to do with the text. This is so lazy, I've already thought about it more than any of the at least five people (participants+interviewer+photographer) involved, and of course nobody but nobody has thought about the 'My platform' column for 20 May 2008 since 20 May 2008, when the editor surely said 'spend more than two minutes on this next time mate'. 

Sunday, January 10, 2021

box of crap - treasure #13

 

I have no fucking idea what this is 'for', where it came from or why, at some point, I (presumably I) thought 'hmm, can't throw this away right now, what if at some point I need a bit of pale faux rope for my/the/a [insert any insane thing you can think of here]. So I put it in the box of crap with the other crap, because that was crappropriate. I am now going to take special pleasure in throwing it in the bin, and perhaps pleasure postponed is pleasure increased, or whatever the actual cliched saying is.

Saturday, January 09, 2021

box of crap - treasure # let's say 7-12 - various paper

You know how Michael Gambon says 'straight to the pool room'? These items are going straight to the garbage bin. Isn't it funny when you see someone's handwriting and you recognise it, but you can't remember whose it is? EG the bit of work stuff below:
A flier for Jane Dust shows, don't know what year but you'd have to assume 15+ years ago. 
And a few more of my own drawings:


Finally, an old Polyester bag. I always found this design problematic at the time but these days it doesn't really seem that controversial at all, let alone offensive (maybe a bit ridiculous). 



Friday, January 08, 2021

box of crap - treasures # 3-4-etc

These singles were shoved in the box of crap. I seem to recall they are the same release but with two different covers. I don't know why. I don't know anything. 


I don't know about you but when I see these things I just see a desire to disgust people and I can't even recall what I was thinking, the circumstances under which I agreed to do these, etc. I am pretty sure they were just the product of a couple of hours of random uberdoodling. I had a look on discogs and the one above isn't listed/acknowledged, the one below is and it's worth $6+. I think I may give these to the op shop. WGAF


Thursday, January 07, 2021

box of crap - treasure # 2

 

A big thing in the box of crap turned out to be this folder with an early draft of what was to become my 2016 book Dig. I do not seem to have dated this draft but clearly I went to the trouble of printing it out and putting the holes in it so I could have it in this pseudo-book form presumably to read it and make notes on, though I don't seem to have done so (alternatively perhaps I prepared it for someone else to read a draft - I did that a bit early on). Whatever. For some reason I kept this and now I am going to put it in the recycling. Holus bolus. 

The book by the way has yet to set the world on fire, but time will tell of course, and the world is looking very flammable of course. 

Wednesday, January 06, 2021

box of crap - treasure #1

The box of crap included a sketchpad with almost all the pages torn out, except this beginning of a comic strip. 

Tuesday, January 05, 2021

box of crap

 

This is a box of crap, retrieved from under the house at Lorraine and sure to be a rich and fermented walk down memory lane. I have already uncovered a kind of diary from October, 2001 which I will reveal to you on its 20th anniversary. There are other interesting things in there too as well as some uninteresting things. I have a feeling a lot of the interesting things are along the lines of 'isn't it interesting that I bothered to keep this completely non-interesting item?!' More shortly. 

Monday, January 04, 2021

rabbit rabbit belated

 



Thoughtful Ferdie yesterday. I think he had already been in the water by this stage so his thoughts were probably along the lines of 'I was hot, now I'm cold, what's that about?'

Sunday, January 03, 2021

not quite cancelled

 

A thing I love about op shops is that you can be destroyed everywhere else, and for good reason, but op shops don't care, in fact they are more or less charged not to care, that is their mission, about the shit they have on offer. It really doesn't matter to them how Pete Evans ('Australian chef, conspiracy theorist, restaurateur, author, and television presenter') is regarded in the rest of the world if you're willing to take his book - which is probably no better or worse than most mainstream cookbooks, I wouldn't know - off their shelf and give them $4 or whatever. Indeed, op shops are a great gauge of what kinds of shizzle people don't want in their houses anymore, obviously op shops are riddled with obsolete formats (DVDs, etc) but also the kinds of books you presumably tolerate until something about them becomes beyond the pale, I'm thinking of that cyclist who took performance enhancing drugs, thinking of him, but can't remember his name. Yes I saw him in an op shop recently, very cheap. Actually what I see ho ho are of course his inspirational memoirs which pop up a lot. Op shops don't care if you buy those and fail to follow up with any further information about where old mate went after he published those two or three very successful books about being a world champion cyclist, whatever that actually literally means. 

It's not the same but I am reminded of the Wanda Koolmatrie affair and being reminded of such I went for a little look in library catalogues to see how My Own Sweet Time is being treated e.g. could you borrow this book from a library with no awareness that it is a fake memoir? (I have actually bought this book from an op shop in the past, btw). My own institution's library doesn't have it, and for some reason today the State Library of Victoria's catalogue is offline. The National Library of Australia has two copies, squirrelled away, and while it doesn't actually come out guns blazing with information about its fictitiousness, if you spent a moment looking to the right you'd get good intel: 

Weird extra strangeness that the NLA apparently won't alter the author to give his real name (even in brackets), but they did initially misspell 'Koolmatrie'. 

I'm interested in reading that John Bayley book even if the title is a steal from Austen Tayshus. 

Well, so on top of that and only semi-relatedly, Wikipedia gave me an interesting snippet of information which I suppose is only semi-verified. Apparently Leon Carmen played keyboards in a mildly legendary band of the early 70s in Adelaide, Red Angel Panic (no relation to the Angels, also from Adelaide, except that Chris Bailey played in both, yes, the late Chris Bailey who is no relation to Chris Bailey of the Saints).* Except apparently back then Leon called himself Moses. He is presumably one of these men:

Or, at least, I gather 'Moses Carmen' appears on this record. 

My only other query - and perish the thought that I might be drifting away from whatever original topic I was on - is given that the very talented 'Lo' (Loene) Carmen has a name very similar to Leon Carmen's and was born in Adelaide to parents who worked in the music scene and to a mother who, presumably, had the last name Carmen, I wonder if there is / was a connection? By which I mean a historical connection.

* Or presumably John Bayley

Update, 23/1/21:



ryan 'pipeline' (part 1)

I'm going to come back to this ep of Ryan because it has an amazing North Melbourne car chase, but first I want to honour Margaret Cruic...