State of A Nation

So, what's been going on, I hear you ask. Well, not all that much, unfortunately. Uni is gradually overtaking all my free time, with assignments, readings and revision (see: Japanese). I do like uni, yes I do, but I'm not generally very motivated to do much, so stuff gets left until the last minute and I'm a bit behind (see: Japanese, again). And the "uni life" has been put on hold as I enter dire economic struggle. I seriously, desperately need a job. It's not easy, lemme tell you kiddies this. Employers are dicks...

But really, apart from the money, you could say everything's comin' up Milhouse.



My internet is mysteriously back to full speed (my house isn't a third-world country anymore!) and yeah, the personal life and whatever you wanna call the situation is sweet. Sweet friends, what more could you want, right? Kick back, dirt off your shoulder, fellas.

Super pumped for dubstep next Thursday. Shit'll be great. I am heavily sacrificing this week, no burgers, no beers, no spending on chili Grain Waves. It'll be this way until employment. I could be more motivated to get work, but like, I've put out so many resume's and applications it's a bit ridiculous that NOTHING has come up. I actually haven't got a response from ANYONE. Fucking newsagency guy said he'd call all the applicants but I didn't get call. I think I might have to give that fuckface a drive-by, teach that bitch not to fuck with this nigger. Motherfucker.

Seriously, who the fuck wouldn't want to employ me?

Jónsi - Boy Lilikoi

77 BoaDrum

Boredoms "77 BoaDrum" concert.
07/07/07 at 7:07PM at
Empire-Fulton Ferry State Park, Brooklyn, New York.
Both this or either "88 BoaDrum" concerts would have been
amazing experiences.

I hope I see Boredoms before I die.

Language Barrier

The fact that I have no idea of what she said in any song does not detract in the slightest of how awesomely ecclectic Shiina Ringo's album "Karuki Zamen Kuri no Hana" is. It's possibly the greatest pop record to ever come out of Japan.

Shiina Ringo - Ishiki

Galang-a-lang-a-lang-lang

Maya Arulpragasm, my darling. What a baller.

M.I.A. - Sunshowers

Through The Wire

Not a gay fish.

Kanye West - Diamonds From Sierra Leone

Escapades

[Typed last night while spinning in bed]

Because I have no decent blogging app on my phone anymore, this has been typed in the notes.

It was a fucking great night. Lau's party involved the alkyholes (in excess) and then a gay and then Bar Century. Ooooohhhhh, sudden sickness. Better not vomm when I wake.

Anyways, got touched on the bottom by a creepy dude at the gay bar, That was really odd. And as I was walking through Newtown to where my sister was, I was pushed into the window of a shop front by some drunk Aboriginies. One of the guys questioned the assailant (See: "What tha fuck, bro!?"), but for me it was a frightening, nerve racking and potentially dangerous. Luckily I got out of there, made it to the Marlborough, drank more and was blind for the cab.

Blind as a fucking bat tonight.

Dada

Hannah Hoch: Cut With The Dada Knife through the Last Weimar Beer-Bellied Cultural Epoch in Germany, collage of pasted papers, 1919.

What an appropriate title. Gotta love Dada, it was the bomb.

I think it's time to start a band. For reals this time. No foolin'! Really! Truly! We can jam covers to get in the groove with each other. Cool songs like "House of Jealous Lovers" by The Rapture, "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" by The White Stripes and "New York City Cops" by The Strokes. And we can have a cool name. And put a cool picture up on last.fm. And make our friends listen to out sick tunes. And rehearse in dingy rooms and blast the amps so loud that we can't tell what we are listening to. Yeah. That's what I'd like to do.

Bee Gees - More Than A Woman

States of Reality

Joan Miró: Harlequin's Carnival, oil on canvas, 1924-1925

Surrealism: What a raging party.

Strange Brew

Robert Whitaker: Eric Clapton, Scotland, 1967

Rock and roll is art, too.

The Yardbirds - Smokestack Lightning

Normal

Salvador Dali: Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War), oil on canvas, 1936.

Dali got the shit going on.

Purchases at the Glebe Record Fair:
Fatboy Slim - You've Come A Long Way, Baby ($1) [CD]
The Avalanches - Since I Left You ($12) [CD]
Stan Getz & Joao Gilberto - Getz/Gilberto ($3) [LP]

Satan

Franciso de Goya: Witches' Sabbath, or, The Great He-Goat, oil on canvas, 1874.

I suggest you click to see that in a much larger size. My unhealthy love for Goya's Black Paintings continues.

Massacre

Francisco de Goya: The Third of May, oil on canvas, 1814.

Ouch, baby. Very ouch.

Going out last night made me realise I'm pretty incapable at a club. Pretty sure I didn't get eyed once by anyone. Damn this fat, wog body of mine. Or maybe it's because I reeked of beer (thanks, Al)? Regardless, it was a pretty great night last night. Plenty o' drank, dancing and sweating (and therefore, exercise) and then standing there awkwardly, judging the dirty, dirty women that walked past me. Then I got drunken text urge, I think that made Tania happy or something. Then on the Nightrider (after running through back alleys and past drug dealers to take a piss) there was a guy doped out of his fucking brain on like meow meow or something. And Tania and I kept chatting and Pills and I were chatting then we were going to walk to his place from Caringbah station but Pills flagged down a cab and that wasn't fun because I really wanted to walk because I was going to tell Tania to come out and hang with us at Port Hacking Road like the bogans we are at like 2:15am. And so we got back to Pills' house and ate some lamb and sudeki and drank Fiji Water while we D&M'd and watched a "Top 50 Heroes of the 90s" countdown which anti-climax'd with Madonna and her lame song "Vogue". Then I slept on the air matress and when I woke up it had pretty much totally deflated because it was the only one out of thirteen that has a hole in it so my back hurts. But now, funk, soul and R&B cures all melancholic feelings. I'm also craving a kebab next time I'm off my tits.

Otis Redding - Respect

Paganism

Emile Nolde: Dance Around The Golden Calf, oil on canvas, 1910

An artwork a day keeps the bogan away.

Meet Bob

Chuck Close: Bob, synthetic polymer paint on canvas, 1970.

I will have this image on a t-shirt one day.

Art

Claude Monet: Houses of Parliament, London, Sun breaking through fog, oil on canvas, 1904.

True beauty.

Before The Verdict

This is a bit of a weird one. It's the Madlib beats we know and love (expect when the Beat Konducta went to India. That wasn't that lovable) but some rapping by Guilty Simpson and political samples. Also, the songs aren't just 1-2 minute beats but full songs. Not really what I like Madlib for. But yes, his Medicine Show project this year will be interesting. Ambitiously beginning with this politically focussed hip-hop record with his name slapped on it and with hardly any mention of Guilty Simpson (expect for the last song). I dunno, I haven't finished, but so far it's alright. Ain't no Beat Konducta 5 and 6. Magical.

I listened to a little bit of Medicine Show No. 2: Flight To Brazil and that was pretty sick. Another shake up for konducting beatz, Madlib crafts rather lengthy explorations into Brazilian musical culture. He ventures through the tribal jungle, rings off some MPB and tropicalia. I really like this suite. He's done well on this Medicine Show. I wonder how No. 3 will go with his Konducting Beatz in Africa. I mean I'll probably "acquire" all the Medicine Shows over the year (with April's being reggae :O !), but I have the feeling that such an ambitious project will backfire sometime, so a few may be really stinkers. Kinda like (nearly) all of Omar Rodriguez-Lopez's crazy album project. But then again, Omar is a self-indulgent prog-psych-experimental superbrain which was always going to implode. And it did. Proof: Despair

Lastly, Easter fucking sucks. People are all "RELIGION RELIGION RELIGION!" and I'm all "Fuck all you hoes...get a grip mo'fukkah..." and people are all trying to get me fat after I've been (kinda) losing weight. I get this from the fact that Pills' parents told me I looked skinnier, which made me happy. Plus I think my wrists are getting thinner. Which is cool. I guess. No? It's not cool? Well, whatever. I'm sure someone does.