monday : 28 nov 2005

Quick update: came home early and watched Return of the King on Friday night. Great eye candy, although the narrative drags on a bit. The drama just doesn't stretch beyond a role-playing game level. On Saturday I got up early to watch all of the DVD extras. Not surprisingly I nodded off a few times. While I have my reservations about the films, Peter Jackson's legend status is writ in stone – someone in New Zealand should carve their version of Mt Rushmore and stick PJ up there. Hmmm, what else? Heathen came over Sunday and I used what little sapped energy I had left to entertain him with DVDs, conversation, and beer. And tonight I went shopping at the Myer 20% off sale with Mike from work. I bought: faded grey Levi jeans, grey Country Road jeans, a white business shirt with skulls and cross bones embroidered on it, and new leather shoes for work. To torture myself, I tried on some Lloyds shoes (already have a pair of Lloyds dress boots). Oh my fucking god, they are exquisite. The shop only had size nine; an eight and a half would have been a perfect fit for my hoofs. I bet they sold out at lunch time. Aiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!!!! We also had a look at suits, but I wasn't in the mood for spending that much or doing the necessary fitting room modelling routine. Doing it for jeans was hard enough after a long day in the office.

thursday : 24 nov 2005

Oh boy, double urrgghh. Home late again at 1:09am after a terrific day on planet Melbourne. Had another farewell lunch and drinks session for someone leaving work. Then four of us lads venture out to exchange office gossip over plates of average Chinese food. This finishes at around 10:00pm. I state that Hammerheart at Ding Dong is my next stop, and fail to coax anyone else to join me. Talk about a bunch of big girl's blouses!

The club, which used to be called The International – a favourite haunt of ours for drinking cheap beer and playing pool – is sparsely populated. The door bitches said the first band was already off stage, adding that they were "very loud". I grab a Cascade Light and settle into a couch alone to watch Medusa set up and do their sound check. This three-piece outfit of older dudes played heavy metal, with overtones of The Exploited circa Beat the Bastards (top album). The drummer Natalie was female, too. Their set was entertaining to watch, with some terrific groove happening, a good sound mix, and loads of aggression from the bass playing vocalist. Overall the drumming let them down: it was too rock and roll, not metal enough. For example, where were the two kick drums?

The next band, whose name escapes me, was probably too metal for their own good. You could call it grindcore I suppose, if you had to whack a convenient label on the music. The mix during sound check seemed okay, but during the songs, you just heard a fucken wall of noise. The singer screeched so hard he developed a nose bleed, and the bass player was rocking out so much he broke a string and had to borrow a guitar from Medusa. Great drummer, though. These younger lads just had buckets of enthusiasm to burn. If they focus on actually playing their music, rather than headbanging like maniacs, some good material should eventuate. Sadly I had to leave before their set finished to catch the last train home.

Bonus points for the cordless guitar rigs supplied by this venue, thus allowing the axemen to stomp around the club and shred their solos on the dance floor among the patrons. Marvelous. That is what I call interactive live music.

wednesday : 23 nov 2005

Urrgghh. Your humble narrator has been out on the town drinking every night this week. This evening I arrived home at 12:32am – that is, four minutes ago. Last night it was 1:30am. Tomorrow has in store more liquid celebrations for a farewell send-off after work, preceded maybe by lunch with Laura (let me know), and then a visit to the new Thursday metalhead night called Hammerheart at Ding Dong. Will I wear a suit there? They must be used to seeing me in one by now. Friday also promises more boozy consumption during and after our quarterly departmental information session. I might sleep through the entire up-coming weekend. Ahhhh, summer in Melbourne is fully sick.

monday : 21 nov 2005

Hi there. The computer has been in a state of dismemberment for a couple of days. This was due to holding the first Melbourne Head-Fi headphone meet-up at my place. Check out the build up to the eight-hour event here and the post mortem with photos here (my nickname is Bosch). These dudes have way more technical knowledge than I do – I just like the noises that come out of the magic boxes and Jetsons earmuffs. One aspect of attending a meet-up is to sample other people's equipment and therefore broaden your reference points. Good stuff. But I was exhausted when sleep debt from the previous week caught up with me: Saturday night and Sunday were both write-offs. And tonight I started it all again with dinner, a movie and drinks with Michael from work and Shazza (happy birthday).

wednesday : 16 nov 2005

8:11am and it's the midweek hump. Went to bed at 2:00am after starting Boogie Nights at about 10:00pm (with the volume up) and then watching all of the DVD extras. Yawwwnnn. Was there a point behind this journal entry? I thought there was, but it escapes me now. Nevermind.

1:22am. As the saying goes, life is a beach right now. Drinks after work on Monday night, then two functions today that supplied (a) free drinks and (b) free and delicious finger food. How long can this rich diet of gourmet nibblies and cold brewskis continue? Indefinitely, I hope. Just have to stay awake long enough. Off to bed...

sunday : 13 nov 2005

The following post by Jonathan Barnett originally appeared on the Mobius Home Video Forum (MHVF) here, along with other comments about Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith on DVD. It raised a wry smile from this reader, and is a fine example of droll message board humour:

I'm done with Star Wars. Its over. Been over a long time now. Long time. It was a better series when it was about Luke not Darth or whatever his name is.
   You know what I'd rather watch? Horror Castle. Its the movie with Christopher Lee looking for his hair. Now that is a movie with a Man in a Mask with a Past. And a Son to boot. This movie has the real birth of Darth Vader. None of this "not fair" crap. No. No. This time the "old ways are still the best".
   I'm never watching Star Wars again. And this time I mean it.....unless its Horror Castle.

As you will recall, last Friday was Remembrance Day. That morning I locked myself out after locking the front door and forgetting to bring the keys with me. Ah, if only you could bottle that sensation, it is so rare and special. The planned Friday frivolities (lunch and drinks after work) unspooled regardless. Of course, the landlord was overseas, and his son couldn't drop the spare keys off until Saturday morning, so I crashed at Christine's place (much appreciated) and caught public transport home. It turned out that the spare keys were the wrong ones, forcing me to hire a locksmith (who lived at the end of my street) at Saturday charge rates. Had to be done. Since it was 11:00am by this stage, I had about three hours to clean up, relax and get ready for the wedding. It went well, the reception dinner especially so, thanks to the company and the scrumptious banquet. A thoroughly enjoyable event.

monday : 7 nov 2005

Catching up: To start with, Friday was all right. A free bar-b-que lunch was put on by our organisation's executive staff who, including the CEO, all took turns at donning aprons to flip gourmet sausages and fry onions. I ate more charred flesh in one hour than I had all month. Belch...Thag like good. Even though it wasn't much, to me it felt like having one of those legendary meat platter dinners a Lemore's (RIP) with my ex-flatmate and fellow carnivore, Chong. But my stomach has definitely shrunk since cutting down on food intake, meat and everything else. This is a good thing. By the time it came to attend another function, this time a retirement bash at 4:00pm, I couldn't eat any of the tasty morsels on offer, so I partook of two Cascade Lights and mixed awkwardly with aquaintences from this business department. The speeches were epic in length; you don't expect otherwise for a retirement occasion, do you? Afterwards I went back to work (one hour later than planned) then headed out for some drinks at the local watering hole. I wasn't really into it, causing an uncustomary yearning for the refuge of the cave, so I beat a hasty 8:30pm retreat. There was also the prospect of going out late on Saturday night...

Two weeks ago, James passed on an e-flyer about a new indie rock DJ dance event called Purple Sneakers at the Rochester Hotel on Johnson Street in Fitzroy. I said I'd be there. He was the official photographer and got us in for free, thus saving us the crippling cover charge of $5.00 each, which naturally went towards buying booze – can't fault that logic. As usual for these occasions, I caught the train in from the suburbs. Nice to see weekend rail commuters flauting the laws and drinking cans of Cougar and Dry openly – have done it myself many times. At Parliment station I was accosted by a young punk rocker wearing a Dwarves T-shirt and walking with his friends. For a joke, he just gabbed me and said "I love ya man! I love ya man!" and so forth. Yeah, right, thanks for that, man. He may have been shocked to learn that I actually own two Dwarves albums. I thought about saying something like, "Say hi to Blag for me" but the moment had passed. No harm done; it was pretty funny. I did wonder where they were going, probably Cherry Bar or Pony.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. James and I got to the Rochester at 10:00pm sharp and watched the club fill up slowly until it was impossible to carry two beers back from the bar without spilling some of it. Throughout the night I estimate that I probably lost about, what, five dollar's worth? Arrghhh!! What is matter? Nevermind. What is mind? Doesn't matter. So the music gets pumping and James is stalking around snapping revelers with his Canon 350 digital camera like a thing possessed. However, despite the grungy melee, my dancing shoes refuse to boogey. Normally, I cannot dance to rock or grunge, not properly. Move around to the beat, yeah. Not truly dance, though. I need techno for that, or something like 'Beat It' by MJ. A lot of the toons were unfamiliar, too. That didn't help. Great atmosphere though, with friendly bar staff and plenty of talent to distract the eye of both sexes. I left at about 1:45am in search of clubbing Nirvana.

I was curious about the new Heat at Crown, but the door bitch at Odeon said it was closed for business, and the 'music' issuing out of Odeon itself was, umm, kind of like a gust of sonic itching powder. I thanked the door bitch and fled, eventually ending up at the goth club called Carmilla's on Flinders Street. Almost didn't make it in, because the bouncer thought I wasn't dressed darkly enough, and said, "Sorry mate, private function." Heh heh, heard that one a million times. After some quick thinking, I uttered a few carefully chosen words and voila, he granted me ingress. The $12.00 cover charge (ouch) included a free drink (bonus). The club itself was pretty much dead. I like about half the goth rock and pop industrial metal the DJs play though, making it – when combined with the subdued mortuary lighting, cyberpunk décor, and tragic vampire fashion inspired by Underworld – a rather comfortable early morning chillout zone. I even spotted a poster containing the cover art of Ray Garton's novel Live Girls hanging next to the bar. Limited female talent, sad to report. I liked the bar girl, who I thought was eyeing me off. Could it have been my non-Gothic attire? For the ladies, this venue might appeal to you if tall, emaciated guys dressed like The Crow get you horny. At any rate, I should check this dive out earlier in the evening. What about it, Heathen?

An unexpected surprise upon leaving Carmilla's at 3:25am was seeing a fight breakout on King Street between a Conan the Barbarian jock type (with the requisite all-tits-n-arse bimbo girlfriend) and a drunk skater kid, who got 'smacked' and ended up kissing bitumen on Flinders Lane. Bouncers from that god-awful Spy Lounge club jogged over and broke it up, that is until Kisser's friend took one of them on. Big mistake. Two seconds later (by stop watch) he ended up on the deck too, twisted like pizza dough by three Lebanese Steven Seagals – one had the dude's lower leg bent back, ready to snap the ankle. Needless to say, Pizza Dough grew an IQ pretty fast and acquiesced. He also went home with road grit up his nostrils. All in all, not a bad show. No blood splliage or weird fighting techniques such as the windmill (flailing arms) or the rugby scrum (imagine two mud crabs locked in mortal combat). Just a quick and efficient handling of some 'disruptive elements'. The King Street cameras would have captured it all, too.

The rest of the weekend was a fucking wasteland of sloth and lethargy. Must be the heat. Hey, I did some sunbaking. My dual olive skin/fish belly white look has become, well, boring. An all-over tan is the solution, since even winter's pale, insipid, solitary confinement, jaundiced, dishwater-weak, subterranean sunlight keeps me in a healthy, year-round tan, but only on exposed areas: arms, hands, face. About four weekends of sunning myself in the courtyard rotisserie style for 60 minutes a day should do the trick. To cap off the weekend, I saw Wolf Creek last night on an enormous cinema screen. This is one of the benefits of seeing a new release film during its first week, i.e. before it gets banished to shoebox theatrette #16 for one 9:45pm session per day.

Finally, thanks for not posting anymore comments about Laura and our split (and yes, the anonymous poster asked first if it was okay to write something). Laura is a cool chick, despite breaking up with Melbourne's Most Eligible Bachelor, as voted by the readers of Australian Hi-Fi News. It was a pretty intense relationship right from the start. As with any couple, we had many priceless moments – that's what I remember foremost about her and our time together. Actually, it was always 100% quality time. Once again, I appreciate the support (expressed in various colourful ways) and look forward to partying wichas this summer!!

This is me at Purple Sneakers on Saturday night. Photo by James.

thursday : 3 nov 2005

Sob. Tonight was the last installment of Mr Hooverdust's Seldom Seem American Seventies Cinema screenings (I finally got the name right). Like the lounge room festivals hosted by Beth, this one has been very educational, in that I probably would not have sought out these 'sleeper' curios from what many regard as the best decade in film history. In order of preference, here is my overview:

Network – best script and a classic black comedy assault on teevee lunacy.
Chinatown – oddball film noir drenched in buckets of Roman Polanski cool.
Badlands – memorable deep south slacker killing spree aka "The Malick".
The Last Picture Show – the 1950s deflowered in black and white by Bogdanovich.
Harold and Maude – every attention seeker deserves his/her five mins of happiness.

A big round of applause goes to the hosts of the SSASC: James, Nick and Ben. It was never too much trouble to rearrange couches, pass beers from the fridge, or manipulate volume settings to suit us attendees. After five weeks in a row, I was just getting used to the routine of leaving work early, getting changed at home, picking up food and drink supplies, and driving the Mazdarati across town to Hooverdust Mansion, which is situated in a nexus of urban sensory convenience. I'll especially miss the electronic Guiness bottle opener that chirped the phrase "Brilliant!" with every use.

I have added a censorship alerts section for recent information that lands on the news desk here at the offices of Toxic Waste. For example, believe it or not, and I'm still shocked beyond belief, Cannibal Holocaust, the most infamous illgeal import of them all, has been given an R 18+ rating by the OFLC. Is it uncut? We shall see. Some of these factoids may be unconfirmed, but at least showing them in shorthand gets them into the big wide world sooner. Researching and writing each Chopping List update takes a lot of time. I'm also posting censorship news items on Michael DVD. Short of streaking across the MCG during an AFL match, this is the most amount of exposure I can ever hope to secure.