Saturday, March 31, 2012

Friday, March 23, 2012

life - it keeps going

yeah, i just woke up and it was like - my god. Im still living.
todays blog shall be notations taken at certain points of the day.

2:53 PM
listening to Alice Coopers greatest hits. An old friend is coming over with beer. At least, he says he's gonna. Hope he does, I'm thirsty for company. No, not just the beer, the human company. I'm so very very bored. Extremely. Bored. But at least i have a freaking imagination. Under my wheels.

2:57 - Listening to Alice Coopers Greatest Hits, getting bored. Sloganeering inanely (party!party!party!) . Learning lyrics to "Be my Lover". And that palpably palpitative song "It's my body". Indeed, do you have the time to find out...who i really am?? Obviously you do, or you wouldn't be reading this. But the question remains - are you actually wasting your time, spending your time, finding out, indeed,who, i, really, am (or am not, as the case may or may not actually be, as a matter of fact). And who really cares? Yay! James is coming. Awesome.

4 days later -
James came and went like a hurricane, his bawdy , punchy personality refined after 10 years. Otto, the wifes son, or my step son i guess you could say, through a teeny party that night, so we stumble into to a Cheech and Chong movie set in melbourne circa 2012, with lots of 'oh my gods' and 'whats with the swastika' and vivid pens flailing and self-tatooing. Its all about ones identity and determining it at 16 i think i recall. Labels and band names and patches all become badges of honour and badges of identity. He did well, my sunnies weren't stolen, everyone went home in an orderly fashion, no cops, no fights. Congratulations son, you are now....a man. Yeah, bet you're all lapping this up, this vital information. I know for a fact that you don't care, but i don't care that you don't care, so read on. Go on.

Music music music. And sound art. Heres a few more pieces from 'Crude Australian voume two.' The album is now complete btw, thank god, time to move on (to crude australian volume 3 - the turd and final of the 'lazy lo-fi' tryptich.)






Infinity Ferment is personal fave, very happy with the pseudo ancient roman pluck and drone. And whether the 'poem' tagged onto the piece is poignant is up to those who know what makes a good 'poem'. Indeed, here is, the poem:

we crawl towards a destination set in stone
so absolutely determined so utterly remote
yet complete as it line our sinews
death is our every movement
love is the way to the stars
love lines the sun
love maddens the most rational of creatures
a sequence of chance encounters
and near misses
and what could've been
a mllion million alternate universes
pickle my dreams and ferment infinity


hmmm. a little morbid. here's a lyric from the song 'bring corn'
What dread
and now -
swept,
pushed
Forced
Truce
& prurience
Is wise
Is not wise
Is taken aback
And slapped
Like corn
Like corn
Like sales
Like swallow and inhale
Like Tamil tales
Like Ajativada
Unborn never did it never could
Never would
Bolstered and puckered
Paunchy and retentive
Bruised and bruised
Bleeding brown
Slipped disc
Discus
Disc
Is
Listen Up

Sunday, March 18, 2012

reality


Okay so the weekend ritual is over, thanks to all who made it happen. Thanks and happy birthday to Chris Clements. And Jane Birkin flew into town, which is spooky because my obsession with Serge and Jane B had reignited 2 days prior, with no knowledge of her impending performance. Melbourne is my Paris. Is Melbourne a romantic city? I believe yes. It smells romantic. That heady aroma of ammonia and faeces. It is a beautiful city. But its also a sports mad pit. And soon, as the 'footy' season kicks off, we won't hear the end of it. The fucking footy. Footy this , footy that. Magpies this, small tree dwelling marsupial that. Scarves and gawdy colours and neo-tribal rivalries. And yelping and hollering. And hoopin'. Woop woop. I do share one thing in common with the hoards - a pathological and dangerously unhealthy love of beer (a kind of fermented beveridge brewed with hops).
Crude plans for the next while - to continue the low fidelity outbursts, and to assemble the Aesthetics together for party performances and the odd pub gig. Got some new material down, some internal struggling rendered as chanson, nothing like the monotony of the workplace to get the creative juices flowing. Just think Charles Bukowski and his Post Office. Ian Curtis and his job at the Welfare Office.
So to the week ahead - whatever will be will be. We try. We do what we can with our lot. Melbourne is a city that i call home whether Melbourne cares or not. (it dosen't - ed) I couldn't find work in Dunedin, no matter how hard I tried. So we packed up and left - all in the nick o' time to avoid the stealthy structural adjustments planned by our beloved 'National' Party.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

a band to look up to

MIA is good
arunachala is a hill
a melbourne hipster called me a dickhead
coz i didnt have a moustache
corporation
co-op doll
lickity split

Friday, March 16, 2012

shiva

Shiva, one of the worlds' most ancient Deity. Shaivism is an new interest of mine, the obsession with Daoism has settled down and now Indian philosophies are fascinating me. Such depth, such ancient depth. If you have come to this while searching for Shiva, you may find better info here: http://shaivam.org/index.html

commentary march 17 2012

Life. It keeps going. Radical subjectivity assures me that this life i lead will be an eternal one because, as i have said time and time again, if one can internalize and subjectivize ones temporal experience totally, this innings is our one and only experience of time and therefore - all time and therefore - an eternity.
This is the upanishadic outcome. This is eastern metaphysics par excellence.
My quest is to unravel the binding elements - to defy limits by denying them any reality. Stop measuring things. Stop measuring time and space. Stop anticipating outcomes and regretting past failures. Stop measuring and therefore activating material axioms.
Embracing the fleshless , derail the body.
Enquire as to the source of the self.
Split up the bacon rinds and swivel.
Make hay and chew cud.
Mashed potato-cum-lemon peel. And bitters.
Bitter-me-timbers Roderick, the professor of comparative bollocks once told me
As he forced me to lick his suede elbow patches.
Melbourne city is a city. The air is heady with perfume and the rattle and scrape of the trams. It's a flat city, its a big city. And there's not enough good available men to go around. Women are everywhere. In cars, on trams, walking the streets, shopping, riding bicycles, talking to people. They teach, manage, communicate, enforce the law. Women rule. They are the greatest. We males generally suck. What do women actually see in us? Still, I hear this city truly does have a shortage of good, handsome, well mannered and eligible men for the millions of amazing single women here. So guys, come on. Get it together. Get real. Just shave it off. Please. Get rid of the fucking beard. Do it now.
God i'm bored.


So it looks like Harry wants some of the Middleton magic as well. Isn't that a little bit - oh I don't know , incestuous or something? Oh well.
So who here is a creative type. Is it you, my Russian reader? Please reader, feel free to introduce yourself here. Don't be afraid ! As well know - this blog/journal is going to be around until 2019, unless i die, which is always a possibility, so...yeah - would be nice to get to know some of my readers.
I've been recording a bit more work lately using the ultra-lo-fi technique, i tend to wack out a tune or electro-acoustic work when i get some time to meself. Listen to the fruits here:

The track below is called 'Loss'. Its a bass recorder piece, simple, ostensibly eastern-inspired. I am attempting to capture and nullify unpleasant emotional states with this fairly quiet meditation.

This track is my latest - its about get the internal struggle (the higher jihad) , the struggle to placate ones passions.


this next track is a tonal working , playing around with bass recorder drones. Its about what happens when you drink too much hydrochloric in the morning.


So its the weekend. Tonight there a party im going to, an artist friend of mine is turning 40. Congratulations are due to anyone who reaches this particular milestone. Now he is officially old enough to study kabballah.


hi ! scum!

well hell,. I've been wasting my brain a bit lately so i should get back into writing. So, hi there. Well, whats happening. I got new music, and i am still buggering around with ultra lo-fi stuff. it's so utterly easy! Just lift your arm and a thousand generations of future prickdom are multifacted. Yeah, i simply feel like a reject. But its my own fault, buying into the freemason program for the beginning. god-damn it, hells teeth and a large vacuum rigoroulsy placed in-ano.
Felt good - in my minds eye.

Friday, March 2, 2012

trying very hard.

work it
thoth
thrice great hermes, seal the deal.
ac/dc
rolling blackouts
enron pointed devil toe
full of effluent, gelatinous and crackling (like barnabas)
thoth. wisdom, das boot, bootes, off world scenario,
but matter keeps one bound
glans penis and thistle hooks
seal the deal
fold ye a paper dart
enscribe ye an 'electronic mail' adress
and see wha' happens
dildo
fold ye a paper dart
liaisons dangereuses
pointless pointless
inoperative
come feel the noise
station
gulag gulag
grunt gasser
tackle
calculator urine
venal presuppositions for crichton half-cast
nickers and nick-knacks
paddy-wack
nice ole' wacker schmack taste-up lickidy split
stockings - my man tuesday
terence whallop golden goose
gizz a gander
max planck
razor razor
blixa bargeld fallopian reservoir
tanned hides and puckered buttocks
lambs ears and cows tounges
melbourne mighty melbourne
girl girls girls
HIJABS for all!
mob deth
not interested
vested vestments
dingbats and blighty
tooth and nail
teen bogan
angry agent
sickle
hammer
pubis mons
carrion
mumbai
eros
superimposition
lung lung lung
heironymous schulze
heidelberg james jagger gib-stop glass house
deal me out
count me in
perfectly propertioned silver gut-lining
ibuprofen sunset
never never
heather
glissando and briss
clean whistle and a piss
how bout a peck on the butt cheek prince william
golgotha and flanders

melbourne thoughts saturday nite

beauty. beauty.
beauty.beauty. beautiful . beautiful.
extremely aesthetically pleasing.
very. much. so.
interface.
drop dead gorgeous.
so utterly god damn gorgeous.
sultry as all hell.
god have mercy.
slayer.