Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
a mash-city `cut-up` make-up `based on` an old punk rocker...
a gut-busting, liver-breaking, lung-smashing, warts-n-all, pills-n-booze, petulant Punk icon... the most widely seen invisible presence in modern cinema history... disappearing under skins of digital rendering and emerging... hissing, growling, beating his chest... a stunning amalgamation of emotions... rock and roll masochism underscored by tragedy... the kind of one man powerhouse movie buffs spend endless hours wading through forgettable films to find... beneath the beer stains and cigarette burns lies tender, streak stained underwear... deep internal conflicts with a sensitive soul, linger at the eye of the hurricane... such force of nature... sense the quiet soul at the core of the chaos and tumult...etched like knife wounds into the psyche...that awkward hobble (his character has polio)... those bleary wild eyes... that bull-headed fickle spirit...the sex...the music... the panache...the rock and roll provides the druggy dressing...slivers of the past provide hints of the source of his troublent, turbulent adult life...a vague emotional dependence on his first wife...caring but cautious is she...an often less than ideal father to his son...it ain’t always beer and skittles...a clear and concise message...the person hovering alone in the corner at a party... fidgeting with your phone, waiting for home time...not he...the pensioner upstairs yells out to keep the noise down...snorting and sweating across the finishing line...ooze style and colour...cool, bold, visionary...nail the rhythms...the reason for being...celebrating the spirit...spilling into idolatry...bad craziness, savage beauty...startling pathos.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
poor widdle wuddy...
http://www.abc.net.au/unleashed/stories/s2964788.htm
An article from ABC's opinion page The Drum on how the front page of the paper tells us what to think about and what to think about what we are meant to be thinking about.
Rudd's demise had a large amount to do with the extreme, unecessary, and unprecedented media pressure on his mining policy, and subsequently on his leadership. That good-old-fashioned national broadsheet bastion of conservatism and agression... The Austrlian... was the main culprit, apparently.
The evidence stacks up pretty well in favour of The Australian beating up the mining tax storm in a teacup. It also shows fairly convincingly how THE OZ helped to turn the issue into a battle for the Labour leadership instead of a piece of policy.
Poor Widdle Wuddy...
An article from ABC's opinion page The Drum on how the front page of the paper tells us what to think about and what to think about what we are meant to be thinking about.
Rudd's demise had a large amount to do with the extreme, unecessary, and unprecedented media pressure on his mining policy, and subsequently on his leadership. That good-old-fashioned national broadsheet bastion of conservatism and agression... The Austrlian... was the main culprit, apparently.
The evidence stacks up pretty well in favour of The Australian beating up the mining tax storm in a teacup. It also shows fairly convincingly how THE OZ helped to turn the issue into a battle for the Labour leadership instead of a piece of policy.
The Australian ran 12 front page leads on the mining row in 13 days. Such a run of Page 1 leads on just one issue is rare. By comparison, The Age and the SMH each ran just one front page lead on the issue during this time. The Herald Sun and Daily Telegraph ran no front page leads on the mining tax row in June.
You'd have to go back to Whitlam's sacking or the Vietnam War to come close to such a run of Page 1 leads on one issue. Even then, it's doubtful there was such a run. Was Rudd's tax on mining profits as big a story as the Vietnam War or Whitlam's sacking? Of course it doesn't come close.
Poor Widdle Wuddy...
Saturday, July 24, 2010
on ode to bougainville...
Morwell,
you are one beautifully disgusting cunt.
the glass of your broken phoneboxes,
lays all over post office st,
a street named after the church.
the lady at the bakery has a gleaming stud,
right in her tattoo sun,
she grins and gives me coffee,
i tell her im getting one,
i’m going to get a tiger,
with ruby red eyes,
like my uncles medal,
he won for eating pies.
the finest thing you’ll ever see
is a price of ten bucks flat,
for a six pack of VB tins,
nowhere else has that.
tinnies all the time,
mon-wed-fri-keen,
whenever you want,
whenever you don’t,
my favourite fluoro green,
like slime,
slime that makes us happy,
slime that makes us sad,
slime that makes us fight all night,
slime that makes us bad.
in Morwell,
shit is never good,
but really not that bad,
she is what she is,
I like what she's like,
but she's oh so visibly sad.
so I say, I love you Morwell,
love you just enough,
for here is where the shit is real,
you’re honest and you’re rough.
you are one beautifully disgusting cunt.
the glass of your broken phoneboxes,
lays all over post office st,
a street named after the church.
the lady at the bakery has a gleaming stud,
right in her tattoo sun,
she grins and gives me coffee,
i tell her im getting one,
i’m going to get a tiger,
with ruby red eyes,
like my uncles medal,
he won for eating pies.
the finest thing you’ll ever see
is a price of ten bucks flat,
for a six pack of VB tins,
nowhere else has that.
tinnies all the time,
mon-wed-fri-keen,
whenever you want,
whenever you don’t,
my favourite fluoro green,
like slime,
slime that makes us happy,
slime that makes us sad,
slime that makes us fight all night,
slime that makes us bad.
in Morwell,
shit is never good,
but really not that bad,
she is what she is,
I like what she's like,
but she's oh so visibly sad.
so I say, I love you Morwell,
love you just enough,
for here is where the shit is real,
you’re honest and you’re rough.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
my $2 worth...
Hey Hey Who Gives a Fuck? This shit is straight-up political advertising for stupid people. Direct political expediency. Play the straight bat to popularist outrage.. Pop it straight up to mid-off so he can get it back to the bowlers twice as fast. Repeat. A red cyclone of anger over issues that don't affect anyone unless they want them to. Worse than Howard. If he wins, the front-page-of-the-sun readers and the commercial radio shockjocks of the world will run the nation. There will be parliamentary debate about Kyle Sandilans and about what Kylie is wearing to the Logies. The irony of watching Tony squirm as he was seated next to a gay icon, a glam rock make-up wearing rockstar, and a gay man.. [That was a good speech, Lloyd. If I was 25 and liked cock, we could be something.]...
Yeek. Stay away from the children['s toys] Tony.
I used to love Plucka Duck, but never...you sick... yeah.. ugh.. anyway..
If you had approached any man at any point in the last ten years who had, at any stage of his life, been anywhere even remotely near the vicinity of a newspaper... or even his faculties... and told him that in 2010 Tony Abbott would be hugging Plucka Duck on a remade Hey Hey... as leader of the Liberal Party... with an apparent opportunity to win the election... he would found you creative and amusing. I love Hey Hey as much as the next card-carrying Castle dweller... but neither I, nor Darryl Kerrigan, will ever love Tony Abbott.
So here we have it...election eve[ish] 2010...
At least this is an improvement [entertainment-wise] on 2007's boring-off... all anyone cared about was getting rid of Howard and whether or not he would lose his seat... we did... he did... and Rudd turned out to be less 'same old same old' than his electioneering at the time suggested he would be... so much so that towards the end of his first his term...he developed an actual ego [not just a smarmy smirk]...lost his mind... and tried to actually change a small something about the way the nation works...got his head cut off for his trouble... so damned pestilent...a series of events which has paved the way for...
DUN DUN DUN....
Gillard vs Abbott 2010.
The Maintain-the-rage-ing Idiot Lefty Unionist Unmarried Childless 'Barren' Ranga Radical Atheist vs The Crazy Christian Child-eating Ovary-kicking Raging Right-to-Life Anti-IVF Anti-Queer NeoConservative Mad Monk...
At least shit is interesting nowadays... or should be anyway...
Since Jules triumphantly headbutted her way through the highest glass ceiling in the nation, she has done nothing but deaden and dumb down Labour's existing policies in a disgusting case of political expediency. Power Corrupts... even you Jules, you pig. Rudd was slipping in the polls, so the caucus cut off his head and with it the head from his most progressive policies. Take back what's ours from the hands of big business and no offshore asylum seeker processing... Many have argued that Gillard's maneuvering since taking control has amounted to wise and necessary political posturing that will ensure Labour is returned...
I think I might disagree.. to a certain extent.
While I agree that the mining industry's advertising campaign was killing Rudd, and that Gillard did the right thing by offering the olive branch to the multinationals...{if i hear one more commentator call international mining conglomerate corporations "miners"... grrr..}... I think Labour could have and probably should have given alot less back to the big-wigs in the re-negotiation over the extent of the tax... With opposition like Abbott, I think Labour were too hasty to go back on a decent looking piece of policy to pump up{(possibly temporarily)}flagging polls. Especially when it came out a week later that the concessions given back to the mining industry were $3bn a year more than Labour estimated they would be when they announced the 'new deal'.
The new policy is a highly bastardised little cousin of one of Rudd's more notable 'ideaz'... further evidence towards the case that nothing ever gets done, and probably never is going to get done, around here.
Abbott starves his dog. Severely and without remorse. He loves the word 'brand' in relation to the reputation of a political party. Getting the brand out there. Improving the brand. Like all advertising and brand management... deceitful, untrustworthy, say what they want us to say... avoid this shit at all costs. Go on, fool the stupid for your own benefit fuckwit. Brand Abbott, the blind rabbit.
I used to love Plucka Duck, but never...you sick... yeah.. ugh.. anyway..
If you had approached any man at any point in the last ten years who had, at any stage of his life, been anywhere even remotely near the vicinity of a newspaper... or even his faculties... and told him that in 2010 Tony Abbott would be hugging Plucka Duck on a remade Hey Hey... as leader of the Liberal Party... with an apparent opportunity to win the election... he would found you creative and amusing. I love Hey Hey as much as the next card-carrying Castle dweller... but neither I, nor Darryl Kerrigan, will ever love Tony Abbott.
So here we have it...election eve[ish] 2010...
At least this is an improvement [entertainment-wise] on 2007's boring-off... all anyone cared about was getting rid of Howard and whether or not he would lose his seat... we did... he did... and Rudd turned out to be less 'same old same old' than his electioneering at the time suggested he would be... so much so that towards the end of his first his term...he developed an actual ego [not just a smarmy smirk]...lost his mind... and tried to actually change a small something about the way the nation works...got his head cut off for his trouble... so damned pestilent...a series of events which has paved the way for...
DUN DUN DUN....
Gillard vs Abbott 2010.
The Maintain-the-rage-ing Idiot Lefty Unionist Unmarried Childless 'Barren' Ranga Radical Atheist vs The Crazy Christian Child-eating Ovary-kicking Raging Right-to-Life Anti-IVF Anti-Queer NeoConservative Mad Monk...
At least shit is interesting nowadays... or should be anyway...
Since Jules triumphantly headbutted her way through the highest glass ceiling in the nation, she has done nothing but deaden and dumb down Labour's existing policies in a disgusting case of political expediency. Power Corrupts... even you Jules, you pig. Rudd was slipping in the polls, so the caucus cut off his head and with it the head from his most progressive policies. Take back what's ours from the hands of big business and no offshore asylum seeker processing... Many have argued that Gillard's maneuvering since taking control has amounted to wise and necessary political posturing that will ensure Labour is returned...
I think I might disagree.. to a certain extent.
While I agree that the mining industry's advertising campaign was killing Rudd, and that Gillard did the right thing by offering the olive branch to the multinationals...{if i hear one more commentator call international mining conglomerate corporations "miners"... grrr..}... I think Labour could have and probably should have given alot less back to the big-wigs in the re-negotiation over the extent of the tax... With opposition like Abbott, I think Labour were too hasty to go back on a decent looking piece of policy to pump up{(possibly temporarily)}flagging polls. Especially when it came out a week later that the concessions given back to the mining industry were $3bn a year more than Labour estimated they would be when they announced the 'new deal'.
The new policy is a highly bastardised little cousin of one of Rudd's more notable 'ideaz'... further evidence towards the case that nothing ever gets done, and probably never is going to get done, around here.
Abbott starves his dog. Severely and without remorse. He loves the word 'brand' in relation to the reputation of a political party. Getting the brand out there. Improving the brand. Like all advertising and brand management... deceitful, untrustworthy, say what they want us to say... avoid this shit at all costs. Go on, fool the stupid for your own benefit fuckwit. Brand Abbott, the blind rabbit.
Policy over personality, people.
Labour saved this depraved economy with the stimulus spending that the coalition voted against. Under the conservatives, no one would have been able to rush out and buy new white goods to return consumer spending and confidence to the Harvey Norman economy... unemployment would have been through the roof. Labour bought the budget back to surplus faster than they said they would. They Libs said they would get no where near doing so in an even longer time frame. Morons hang their votes on the empty claim that the Libs have the 'economic credentials' to run the country.
Labour doesn't have enough 'left' left in her to do any serious 'damage' to the economy through changes to I.R. Laws or 'capitulating' to the unions.
The Worker's Party mentality is dead. Despite their new leader's former life of lofty egalitarian rhetoric, there is no serious push from within the party towards increased left or union influence.
Both parties have no real policy on climate change.
Both party's believe that the best policy here is to argue with the other. Full stop.
The Liberal Party is a fucked unit. They are either purely outdated or purely objectionable in all areas of policy. They have no policy except no. They are against seriously trying to change anything, ever. A vote for Abbot is a vote for irrational Neoconservatism. George Bush with bigger ears. Try to keep things how they were, despite how they are now, and how they will be in the future. Fuck the future. No gays, no abortion, no IVF, no boat people, no services. Cut, cut, cut public spending. He is running an election campagin based on a platform that basically amounts to "don't vote for Labour..... because they're gay."
The Worker's Party mentality is dead. Despite their new leader's former life of lofty egalitarian rhetoric, there is no serious push from within the party towards increased left or union influence.
Both parties have no real policy on climate change.
Both party's believe that the best policy here is to argue with the other. Full stop.
The Liberal Party is a fucked unit. They are either purely outdated or purely objectionable in all areas of policy. They have no policy except no. They are against seriously trying to change anything, ever. A vote for Abbot is a vote for irrational Neoconservatism. George Bush with bigger ears. Try to keep things how they were, despite how they are now, and how they will be in the future. Fuck the future. No gays, no abortion, no IVF, no boat people, no services. Cut, cut, cut public spending. He is running an election campagin based on a platform that basically amounts to "don't vote for Labour..... because they're gay."
Fuck off Abbott.
Economic 'conservatism' is arguably defensible by rational argument.
Social conservatism is defensible only by arguments I have absoutely no time for.
And Labour entertain the idea of an internet filter.
A vote for Labour is a vote for not enough change,
Hey Cunts,
Vote Green,please.
or...
If you're a negative creep who hate hippies, plants, animals, and future generations..
At least vote for something you really know and care about..
Don't vote for Abbott because he is not a woman and not a hippy.
He is a retard.
He is a shit bloke.
Vote for The Australian Fishing and Lifestyle Party.
or try to resurrect the Lower Excise Fuel and Beer Party.
Just don't vote Abbott. He wants to eat your children and rape your wife.
Or if you're most interested in loving than fighting or politics,
If you like sex..
Vote for The Australian Sex Party
Vote Sexy in the Senate!
Fuck the idea of censoring the internet!
We love fucking!
Fuck yeah!
Fuck!
Don't vote Abbott!
tea and niceties...
[Alright laptop… by my head…
where’s wally
goat-yeah.
and getting essential
and existential
with bob cuts
mixing blood
AKA
why
I
mightn’t
marry
or whatever]
by me and the outmyHeadbutpleasdontfuckCases]
7yuc zhd2**paranoid android.[ the robot by the ‘better’ person]
please could you stop the noise im tryin a get some REST?
from all the unbornchikkenVoicesinn my head? [book, brook, book]
huh whats’s that??
when i am king you will be first against the wall
with your opinions which are of no consequence at all [too'cool'..me. not good me]
huh what’s that??
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaambition makes you look very ugly [to me..it’s all mine …you’re not an ugly person]
kicking squeeling Gucci little piggy [I can’t help myself]
“you don’t remember “why don’t you remember my name [i now know it’s not true]? off with his head. off with his head man. why wont he reme mber my name [why won’t he forget…it’s not worth it]?”
“ “ I guess he does_[spot on]”
raindownraindown come on raind down on me
froma great height. from a gra/eeaa haaaeeeeeiii. haaaeeeeeiiii
rain down rain down come on rain down on me
froma great height. from a great aaaaaaaeeeeee
raindownrain down come on raindown onme.
froma great heightfrom a great
“ “that’s it sir youre leaving”[you’re making a scene]the crackle of pig skin
The dust & the screaming the yuppies networking
the panic the vomit
the panic the vomit
god loves his children god loves his children, yeah!
dxoigmn**subeterranean homesick alien/.
[but I’d be alright. I’m just up-tight]
pack and get dressed
before your father hears us [fuck that]
before all hell breaks loose [fuck that. loose. No.]
you can laugh [i..just can't help you]
a spineless laugh [full of soulful ignorance]
we hope your rules and wisdom choke you [humanely]
now we are [not] one
in everlasting peace
[I/] we hope that you [never] choke
[I/] we hope that you [never] choke
[I/] we hope that you [never] choke
[I/] we hope that you [never] choke
sddksuhvs**exit music(for a film)
spread a little lovin'[different direction]..again... just don’t ask for it back.
I7yci7cyi**let down.
one day. I am goingtogrow wings.
hysterical and useless [17ycicyi**let down. hysterical and useless]
you’ve been gone long… you’re coming back… never coming back…
[cup of tea in the morning light…everything’s alright…now..she.. makes my man healthier ‘wealthier’ [can’t help myself]and wiser]
karma police**??id6890
karma police arrest this man he talks in maths he buzzesLikeAfridge hes like a detuned radio.
karma police arrest this girl he rhitler hairdo is making me feel ill [I preferred the old one. my fault not theh airs]
&we
have
crashed
her
party.
tHis is what you get. tHis is what you get. tHis is what you get when you mess [with with everthing/s]
your heart’s [really is] a [fucking] mess [, mate.]
(phew for a minute there I thought I lost myself
fitter happier [than me.yeah] more productive
comfortable
not drinking too much [too much../too young]
regular exercise at the gym (3 days a week)[too many. people should pay me to lift their heaviness]
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries [who..will/you..will..love/I..will/love..you/love..them/not..them?]
at ease [not true. wherefore?
more.]
eating well (no more microwaves dinner and saturated fats) [sounds..delicious and decadent. i’m never right.]
a patient better driver [when hell boils over]
a safer car (baby smiling in the back seat)
sleeping well (no bad dreams) [I/hope..for her]
no paranoia [doubt the same. doubt the different.]
careful to all animals (never washing spiders down the plughole)
keep in contact with old friends (enjoy a drink now and then) [me me
me me.
whiskey
alluring
ever and ever,
nonono.]
[stop using your right arm to type,
slow down.]
will frequently check credit at (moral) bank (hole in wall)
favours for favours
fond but not in love
charity standing orders
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants)
car wash (also on Sundays)
no longer afraid of the dark. [afraid of very little.
pretend to be brave.
shit myself when you/I...try.]
or midday shadows [or gameshows.another million tortured.
coming from your cunting colour television.
can’t help..myself]
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate
nothing so childish
at a better pace [a much...muchbetter pace.
full stop!
end of non-existant argument.]
slower and more calculated
no chance of escape [‘escape’.
his word, not mine.
should ‘escape’,
if you can stand it.]
now self-employed [maybe then.]
concerned (but powerless) [close to the bone.
you cutting cunt.]
an empowered and informed member of society (pragmatism not idealism) [cut/close to a paranoid,
now.]
will not cry in public [or show affection.
just not the way. notfair.]
less chance of illness
tyres that grip in the wet (shot of baby strapped in the back) [shot dead
in a dumpster]
a good memory
still cries at a good film
still kisses with saliva [no way not.not evernot.]
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick
that s driven into
frozen winter shit (the ability to laugh at weakness) [really really gets
my little goat.
Bleat, bleat,
bleat your heart out//
little goat.
no-one will listen
it’s the way it was
way before you
won't go away.]
calm []
fitter, healthier and more productive
a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics
[I know I’m wrong]
[I can’t help it, I can’t help myself, I can’t help it.]
[I will.]
[regardless]
[but this is why, this is why….this is why.]
the man in the pigpen knows the way winds blow
feelin’ down...?I’ll come around.I’ll pick you up.take you out.coming back.Never
gg yhf**climbing up the walls
I am the pick in the ice
do not cry out or hit the alarm
we are friends till we die y
its always better wwwhen the light
is off [deleting it]
its always better on the outside
eitherway you turn I’ll be there [when you want]
open up your skull I’ll be there [if you need]
climbing up the [your] walls [not literally. sorry.
sorry. okay.]
I’ll take a quiet life. a handshake some carbon monoxide [no, no , no}. No alarms and no surprises. No alarms and no surprises please.
**the tourist.523654357374437443743333764375697569700
it barks at no-one else but me like its seen a ghost. I guess its seen the sparks a-flowin [blowin’ in your sisters collection.
we like harmonica.
you don’t.
fucking pub trivia.
mate.], no one else would know.
sometimes I get over charged that’s when you see some sparks. They ask where the hell im going?? At 1000 feet per second.
hey man slowdown. Idiot slow down. [idiot slowdown./now.]
you just [kinda] wasted my precious time.
don’t think twice, it’s alright. [100%]
don’t think about today.til tomorrow.
everybody must [stop] get[ting so] stoned..[or else]
where’s wally
goat-yeah.
and getting essential
and existential
with bob cuts
mixing blood
AKA
why
I
mightn’t
marry
or whatever]
by me and the outmyHeadbutpleasdontfuckCases]
7yuc zhd2**paranoid android.[ the robot by the ‘better’ person]
please could you stop the noise im tryin a get some REST?
from all the unbornchikkenVoicesinn my head? [book, brook, book]
huh whats’s that??
when i am king you will be first against the wall
with your opinions which are of no consequence at all [too'cool'..me. not good me]
huh what’s that??
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaambition makes you look very ugly [to me..it’s all mine …you’re not an ugly person]
kicking squeeling Gucci little piggy [I can’t help myself]
“you don’t remember “why don’t you remember my name [i now know it’s not true]? off with his head. off with his head man. why wont he reme mber my name [why won’t he forget…it’s not worth it]?”
“ “ I guess he does_[spot on]”
raindownraindown come on raind down on me
froma great height. from a gra/eeaa haaaeeeeeiii. haaaeeeeeiiii
rain down rain down come on rain down on me
froma great height. from a great aaaaaaaeeeeee
raindownrain down come on raindown onme.
froma great heightfrom a great
“ “that’s it sir youre leaving”[you’re making a scene]the crackle of pig skin
The dust & the screaming the yuppies networking
the panic the vomit
the panic the vomit
god loves his children god loves his children, yeah!
dxoigmn**subeterranean homesick alien/.
[but I’d be alright. I’m just up-tight]
pack and get dressed
before your father hears us [fuck that]
before all hell breaks loose [fuck that. loose. No.]
you can laugh [i..just can't help you]
a spineless laugh [full of soulful ignorance]
we hope your rules and wisdom choke you [humanely]
now we are [not] one
in everlasting peace
[I/] we hope that you [never] choke
[I/] we hope that you [never] choke
[I/] we hope that you [never] choke
[I/] we hope that you [never] choke
sddksuhvs**exit music(for a film)
spread a little lovin'[different direction]..again... just don’t ask for it back.
I7yci7cyi**let down.
one day. I am goingtogrow wings.
hysterical and useless [17ycicyi**let down. hysterical and useless]
you’ve been gone long… you’re coming back… never coming back…
[cup of tea in the morning light…everything’s alright…now..she.. makes my man healthier ‘wealthier’ [can’t help myself]and wiser]
karma police**??id6890
karma police arrest this man he talks in maths he buzzesLikeAfridge hes like a detuned radio.
karma police arrest this girl he rhitler hairdo is making me feel ill [I preferred the old one. my fault not theh airs]
&we
have
crashed
her
party.
tHis is what you get. tHis is what you get. tHis is what you get when you mess [with with everthing/s]
your heart’s [really is] a [fucking] mess [, mate.]
(phew for a minute there I thought I lost myself
fitter happier [than me.yeah] more productive
comfortable
not drinking too much [too much../too young]
regular exercise at the gym (3 days a week)[too many. people should pay me to lift their heaviness]
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries [who..will/you..will..love/I..will/love..you/love..them/not..them?]
at ease [not true. wherefore?
more.]
eating well (no more microwaves dinner and saturated fats) [sounds..delicious and decadent. i’m never right.]
a patient better driver [when hell boils over]
a safer car (baby smiling in the back seat)
sleeping well (no bad dreams) [I/hope..for her]
no paranoia [doubt the same. doubt the different.]
careful to all animals (never washing spiders down the plughole)
keep in contact with old friends (enjoy a drink now and then) [me me
me me.
whiskey
alluring
ever and ever,
nonono.]
[stop using your right arm to type,
slow down.]
will frequently check credit at (moral) bank (hole in wall)
favours for favours
fond but not in love
charity standing orders
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants)
car wash (also on Sundays)
no longer afraid of the dark. [afraid of very little.
pretend to be brave.
shit myself when you/I...try.]
or midday shadows [or gameshows.another million tortured.
coming from your cunting colour television.
can’t help..myself]
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate
nothing so childish
at a better pace [a much...muchbetter pace.
full stop!
end of non-existant argument.]
slower and more calculated
no chance of escape [‘escape’.
his word, not mine.
should ‘escape’,
if you can stand it.]
now self-employed [maybe then.]
concerned (but powerless) [close to the bone.
you cutting cunt.]
an empowered and informed member of society (pragmatism not idealism) [cut/close to a paranoid,
now.]
will not cry in public [or show affection.
just not the way. notfair.]
less chance of illness
tyres that grip in the wet (shot of baby strapped in the back) [shot dead
in a dumpster]
a good memory
still cries at a good film
still kisses with saliva [no way not.not evernot.]
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick
that s driven into
frozen winter shit (the ability to laugh at weakness) [really really gets
my little goat.
Bleat, bleat,
bleat your heart out//
little goat.
no-one will listen
it’s the way it was
way before you
won't go away.]
calm []
fitter, healthier and more productive
a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics
[I know I’m wrong]
[I can’t help it, I can’t help myself, I can’t help it.]
[I will.]
[regardless]
[but this is why, this is why….this is why.]
the man in the pigpen knows the way winds blow
feelin’ down...?I’ll come around.I’ll pick you up.take you out.coming back.Never
gg yhf**climbing up the walls
I am the pick in the ice
do not cry out or hit the alarm
we are friends till we die y
its always better wwwhen the light
is off [deleting it]
its always better on the outside
eitherway you turn I’ll be there [when you want]
open up your skull I’ll be there [if you need]
climbing up the [your] walls [not literally. sorry.
sorry. okay.]
I’ll take a quiet life. a handshake some carbon monoxide [no, no , no}. No alarms and no surprises. No alarms and no surprises please.
**the tourist.523654357374437443743333764375697569700
it barks at no-one else but me like its seen a ghost. I guess its seen the sparks a-flowin [blowin’ in your sisters collection.
we like harmonica.
you don’t.
fucking pub trivia.
mate.], no one else would know.
sometimes I get over charged that’s when you see some sparks. They ask where the hell im going?? At 1000 feet per second.
hey man slowdown. Idiot slow down. [idiot slowdown./now.]
you just [kinda] wasted my precious time.
don’t think twice, it’s alright. [100%]
don’t think about today.til tomorrow.
everybody must [stop] get[ting so] stoned..[or else]
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
myxomatosis poem
crud was a smarmy cuntbag,
his smirk was full of shit,
but if this “ranga bitch” gets voted out,
we’ll be stuck with rabbit.
and on the fan he’ll shit.
his smirk was full of shit,
but if this “ranga bitch” gets voted out,
we’ll be stuck with rabbit.
and on the fan he’ll shit.
Friday, May 14, 2010
horsey girls are babes...
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
like giving a drunk another drink?
I don't for a second pretend to understand even the basic concepts of the insanely complex and confusing sphere of international economics. I know farking nar-thing. Does this mean I can't comment on economic policy? Does a lack of knowlege on any topic justify political apathy? Fuck that. Too many people refuse to have an opinion on economic policy because they 'don't know how the economy works'. Newsflash fuckface: neither do economists. Something so complex, so infinitely arguable, so intensely up-in-the-air, is never 'known' by anyone. There will nearly always be a massive amount of people, knowing massive amounts more, about any given anything, than you do. If the issue is the economy, more so than most areas, know that no-one knows best. There is no authority on the subject. Anyone claiming to know for certain the consequence of any piece of economic policy is lying. This is why letting somebody else do the thinking is dangerous. Especially in decisions of dollars and the potential levels of suffering and death associated with every such desicion. Open-minded, inquisitive criticism is necessary for all forms of education. Make your point, listen to the response, change your mind, repeat.
Criticising obvious flaws in things, ignoring 'the way of the world' rationalisations for blatantly unethical or illogical decisions, these things must be a matter of utmost importance; even for the idiot. Especially for the idiot. I'm an idiot, but I care. One of my main (covert) missions in life is to convince other idiots to care. Most people are idiots. Most people aren't willing to admit it. This is the problem with most people, as I see it. Convincing your average 'garden-variety' uncaring-idiot and, even more so, your average 'quasi-intellectual-arsehole-variety' of uncaring-idiot, to care about humanity is a tricky task. Convincing these people that they are an idiot is even trickier. The first problem to be faced by anyone attempting to undertake this 'immeasurable measure' is the struggle with self-consciousness.
The old adage that you shouldn't discuss politics, sex, or religion at the dinner table echoes around today's streets in silence. These echoes, carrying a modern meaning, have an entirely different resonance. 'Among the young', probably thanks to the popularity of South Park, or something, no topic is considered off-limits, nothing is taboo, anything is acceptable 'at the dinner table'. The problem comes if and when we actually form an opinion; as we celebrate an 'open slather on everything' style of comedy, it is entirely unfashionable to be serious about anything except yourself. It's fine to talk about religion, science, sex, or even south park at the dinner table; just don't spout an earnest political opinion about any of the above or you'll be cut down and laughed out of the room.
Fuck the idea that you can't criticise if you don't know better; exposing the illogical and criticising the stupid will lead to more people at least attempting to think. We won't solve shit, if we don't all think. There are plenty of awful processes and practices out there. Plenty of putrid pieces policy and procedure that are in place for no logical reason. The 2010 federal budget included an extra $1.4bn for blowing up Afghani's but only an extra $650mil for converting to clean energy technology. Shit like that makes me angry. Angry enough to tell someone about it who doesn't know or care. Angry enough to irritate friends and alienate others with uninformed, self-righteous ranting about what is right and what is not.
The reason I wax so lyrical and rant so rambling on the topic of saying what you think, economy-wise or otherwise: the big bail-out package being offered to the Greek banks by the EU. This article criticises the current trend towards the Keynesian mode of economics; a model that professes constantly propping up failing, chaotically volatile financial markets with massive, publicly funded bail-out packages. Remember folks, 'publicly funded' means that the money being given to the banks is taxpayer's money, worker's money, 'the people's' money. The argument runs that this process basically equates to global governments printing the money in order to fund a fairy-tale quest for unsustainable endless economic growth. Banks really bad, government bad, people not so bad. Bad government giving not so bad people's money to really bad banks: really, really, bad. Check it out:
http://www.crikey.com.au/2010/05/11/euro-bailout-like-giving-a-drunk-another-drink/
Sure seems stupid.
Time will tell.
Criticising obvious flaws in things, ignoring 'the way of the world' rationalisations for blatantly unethical or illogical decisions, these things must be a matter of utmost importance; even for the idiot. Especially for the idiot. I'm an idiot, but I care. One of my main (covert) missions in life is to convince other idiots to care. Most people are idiots. Most people aren't willing to admit it. This is the problem with most people, as I see it. Convincing your average 'garden-variety' uncaring-idiot and, even more so, your average 'quasi-intellectual-arsehole-variety' of uncaring-idiot, to care about humanity is a tricky task. Convincing these people that they are an idiot is even trickier. The first problem to be faced by anyone attempting to undertake this 'immeasurable measure' is the struggle with self-consciousness.
The old adage that you shouldn't discuss politics, sex, or religion at the dinner table echoes around today's streets in silence. These echoes, carrying a modern meaning, have an entirely different resonance. 'Among the young', probably thanks to the popularity of South Park, or something, no topic is considered off-limits, nothing is taboo, anything is acceptable 'at the dinner table'. The problem comes if and when we actually form an opinion; as we celebrate an 'open slather on everything' style of comedy, it is entirely unfashionable to be serious about anything except yourself. It's fine to talk about religion, science, sex, or even south park at the dinner table; just don't spout an earnest political opinion about any of the above or you'll be cut down and laughed out of the room.
Fuck the idea that you can't criticise if you don't know better; exposing the illogical and criticising the stupid will lead to more people at least attempting to think. We won't solve shit, if we don't all think. There are plenty of awful processes and practices out there. Plenty of putrid pieces policy and procedure that are in place for no logical reason. The 2010 federal budget included an extra $1.4bn for blowing up Afghani's but only an extra $650mil for converting to clean energy technology. Shit like that makes me angry. Angry enough to tell someone about it who doesn't know or care. Angry enough to irritate friends and alienate others with uninformed, self-righteous ranting about what is right and what is not.
The reason I wax so lyrical and rant so rambling on the topic of saying what you think, economy-wise or otherwise: the big bail-out package being offered to the Greek banks by the EU. This article criticises the current trend towards the Keynesian mode of economics; a model that professes constantly propping up failing, chaotically volatile financial markets with massive, publicly funded bail-out packages. Remember folks, 'publicly funded' means that the money being given to the banks is taxpayer's money, worker's money, 'the people's' money. The argument runs that this process basically equates to global governments printing the money in order to fund a fairy-tale quest for unsustainable endless economic growth. Banks really bad, government bad, people not so bad. Bad government giving not so bad people's money to really bad banks: really, really, bad. Check it out:
http://www.crikey.com.au/2010/05/11/euro-bailout-like-giving-a-drunk-another-drink/
Sure seems stupid.
Time will tell.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
travellin' light...
So I figured it was about time I chucked my two cents in on this whole UK indie "nu-folk" 'movement' everyone is losing their shit over.
My (go-to) two cents: it's fucking sick.
Laura Marling is the most ridiculously talented teenager on the planet.
Look at her do lovely things with this lovely lad.
Not like that.
Minds and gutters people.
That fresh faced lovely lad's name is Johnny Flynn.
He can play guitar and sing and play violin too.
He plays onstage sometimes with these guys.
The Mumford and Someones. Meh.
The juices flow.
Did I mention Laura Marling somewhere before?
Yeah well apparently she makes lovelies with Marcus Mumford.
Fuck those would be some disgustingly beautiful and talented offspring.
The mind boggles.
All of the above mentioned maestro's have been know to play in a band called Noah and the Whale. Their stuff really ramps up the saccharin side of this whole folky bit, it's "twee as fuck" in comparison to the Mumford and Marlings. I still dig it. I'm a bit gay.
Nawww. Cigarettes and wine are indeed awesome.
This lady Emmy the Awesome also is awesome and also plays with Noah and The Whale.
Last but certainly not least on the English front, Laura Darling teamed up with dreamy indie-pop darlings The Mystery Jets a while back to make this lovely little ditty.
Right. Enough with the lovely English kids getting all romantic and feeling good.
That's not the way the world works and we all know it.
If your life is really so peachy then good for you, but get fucked.
Shit gets real in the UK folk circles when you head north for some good old fashioned Glaswegian gloom.
FatCat Records is the home of all that is holy, Scottish, unholy, drunken, and sad.
Case #1: Favourite-band-ever-alright Frightened Rabbit.
Seeing this song performed live; three of my life's greatest memories, musical or otherwise.
Still noodling with folk, although ramping up the rock element a little, also from Scotland, also on FatCat, we have The Twilight Sad.
That one gets me.
Like, y'know really gets me.
It understands me and loves me for who I am.
Or something.
To finish of our little journey back to the empire, the band with the silly name.
We Were Promised Jetpacks.
Great name, great band.
That concludes our tour of Britian.
Its been a ride, thanks for the memories, see you next year.
I can't believe how fresh and non-drug-addled I feel.
If you would like to read more about these lovely lads and ladies, their proficiency at swapping instruments and bodily fluids, and other lovely things, have a look here.
http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/folk-music-in-the-city-1547431.html
My (go-to) two cents: it's fucking sick.
Laura Marling is the most ridiculously talented teenager on the planet.
Look at her do lovely things with this lovely lad.
Not like that.
Minds and gutters people.
That fresh faced lovely lad's name is Johnny Flynn.
He can play guitar and sing and play violin too.
He plays onstage sometimes with these guys.
The Mumford and Someones. Meh.
The juices flow.
Did I mention Laura Marling somewhere before?
Yeah well apparently she makes lovelies with Marcus Mumford.
Fuck those would be some disgustingly beautiful and talented offspring.
The mind boggles.
All of the above mentioned maestro's have been know to play in a band called Noah and the Whale. Their stuff really ramps up the saccharin side of this whole folky bit, it's "twee as fuck" in comparison to the Mumford and Marlings. I still dig it. I'm a bit gay.
Nawww. Cigarettes and wine are indeed awesome.
This lady Emmy the Awesome also is awesome and also plays with Noah and The Whale.
Last but certainly not least on the English front, Laura Darling teamed up with dreamy indie-pop darlings The Mystery Jets a while back to make this lovely little ditty.
Right. Enough with the lovely English kids getting all romantic and feeling good.
That's not the way the world works and we all know it.
If your life is really so peachy then good for you, but get fucked.
Shit gets real in the UK folk circles when you head north for some good old fashioned Glaswegian gloom.
FatCat Records is the home of all that is holy, Scottish, unholy, drunken, and sad.
Case #1: Favourite-band-ever-alright Frightened Rabbit.
Seeing this song performed live; three of my life's greatest memories, musical or otherwise.
Still noodling with folk, although ramping up the rock element a little, also from Scotland, also on FatCat, we have The Twilight Sad.
That one gets me.
Like, y'know really gets me.
It understands me and loves me for who I am.
Or something.
To finish of our little journey back to the empire, the band with the silly name.
We Were Promised Jetpacks.
Great name, great band.
That concludes our tour of Britian.
Its been a ride, thanks for the memories, see you next year.
I can't believe how fresh and non-drug-addled I feel.
If you would like to read more about these lovely lads and ladies, their proficiency at swapping instruments and bodily fluids, and other lovely things, have a look here.
http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/folk-music-in-the-city-1547431.html
Friday, May 7, 2010
Sodomy and Gash
There was an old man of Corfu,
Who fed upon cunt-juice and spew.
When he couldn’t get this,
He fed upon piss —
And a bloody good substitute, too.
- Norman Douglas 1868-1952.
Some Limericks, available through Atlas Press.
Who fed upon cunt-juice and spew.
When he couldn’t get this,
He fed upon piss —
And a bloody good substitute, too.
- Norman Douglas 1868-1952.
Some Limericks, available through Atlas Press.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Robert Doyle, Bored Mayor of the Council of Cockheads, OBE.
King of the Culture-Haters:
http://www.theage.com.au/national/badly-talented-buskers-on-doyles-hit-list-20081201-6o31.html
He says:
He says:
Burn the ‘badly talented’ begging buskers on the streets of Melbourne.
Their fleas and unemployment and unsightly poverty have no place.
Buskers bring the ‘bogans’; not the burbs, or the beers, or the buses.
Sorry the songs of the streets aren’t fit for your refined tastes, Bobby.
Commandant of the Fun-Police:
He wants to:
Blow up the Exford, the best bar in town.
Best because it’s always open, over the bar and over the counter,
but especially under the table.
Long-neck lover’s let us rejoice, for his wish knocked back has been.
We’ve golden ale and coopers pale, our home is ‘boganality’.
Proprietor of Perversion.
His solution for street violence:
“I think it would pay to put all male patrons who enter public institutions of alcoholism through a short video-seminar extolling the virtues of homosexual rape as a very worthy, very achievable alternative to drunken street violence. Next time you feel aggressive under the influence of the demon drink in a public place, simply spike another patron’s drink, and drag them back to the comfort of your own home. By then proceeding to repeatedly rape your fellow degenerate in the most depraved manner you can possibly imagine, you will ensure that your excess testosterone-and-booze-bred rage is released, just as if you had punched the fellow in the face out the front of the pub. The benefits of this new mode of operation for our society come in a triple-threat package...
Firstly, we can continue to fill the public coffers with alcohol-fuelled taxes, without having to worry about the holier-than-thou’s getting all up in our grill about moral decay on the streets of the city. Secondly, the effects of our less dangerous, stress-free testosterone rage release program will flow on to the workplace, thus ensuring: increased productivity; decreased levels of employee dissent; and lesser likelihoods of industrial action. Thirdly, studies have shown that injuries arising from rape (especially the easier, Rohypnol kind of rape), tend to be more closely associated with mental health problems, rather than any real, physical types of injuries. Working in conjunction with our “kill the crazies” policy, this will ease the strain on the overcrowded public hospital system; thus creating the possibility for state governments to save millions upon millions of tax-payers’ hard-earned galleons via decreased health spending. This process of natural selection will also guarantee ever-increasing levels of general public safety and sanity, law and order, as well as lower levels of silliness and irrationality.” - Robert Doyle
No-one gathered in protest.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
less. unless less is more, then more, no less...
Be it the humble hills of South Gippsland, a saw mill on the East coast of the Apple Isle, or the mean streets of Lundern, En-Ger-Lund, Aaron Cupples makes musical magic wherever he goes. His on-stage rock 'n roll resume includes the impressive notch of being lead gitbox-bloke for The Alpha Males, the former band of Austtralia's favourite nephew, that true-blue troubador, and all-round nice guy, Dan Kelly. While I knew that Aaron was an axe-man of note through his work with the Alpha Males, I only recently found that the man is a production wizard to boot...
On a recent road-mission heading up the East coast of Tassie, I put on the only CD in the glove box, The Drones' 2006 LP Gala Mill. I learn from cool-older-cousin Barney that the band recorded the album in an old saw mill not far from where we were, and that his old mate Aaron co-produced the album with frontman Gareth Liddiard. Radical. It's a great album, check out the song 'Words From The Executioner To Alexander Pearce'; a most epic interpretation of a good old gut-wrenching tale from colonial times. The Cannibal Convict. Intense. Awesome.
The point of all this you ask? I'm getting there, you rude cunt. Here it is: I've just been put onto Aaron's new project CIVIL CIVIC, thanks to his cousin, who happens to be my old high-school media teacher. Hey Clay. So yeah, with partner-in-crime-and-crazy-noises Brad Green completing the pair, the two are currently based in London, booking gigs and getting ready to conquer the world. Stylistically speaking, they're about as far as you can get from The Alpha Males' breezy indie-pop or Drones' doom-laden rawkenrawl. But.. they're fucking awesome.
Production genius..something..like I was saying...eclectic...genre-delineating...see..drums..it all makes sense..What?
Anyway, stick this in your indie-electronica crack pipe and smoke it:
On a recent road-mission heading up the East coast of Tassie, I put on the only CD in the glove box, The Drones' 2006 LP Gala Mill. I learn from cool-older-cousin Barney that the band recorded the album in an old saw mill not far from where we were, and that his old mate Aaron co-produced the album with frontman Gareth Liddiard. Radical. It's a great album, check out the song 'Words From The Executioner To Alexander Pearce'; a most epic interpretation of a good old gut-wrenching tale from colonial times. The Cannibal Convict. Intense. Awesome.
The point of all this you ask? I'm getting there, you rude cunt. Here it is: I've just been put onto Aaron's new project CIVIL CIVIC, thanks to his cousin, who happens to be my old high-school media teacher. Hey Clay. So yeah, with partner-in-crime-and-crazy-noises Brad Green completing the pair, the two are currently based in London, booking gigs and getting ready to conquer the world. Stylistically speaking, they're about as far as you can get from The Alpha Males' breezy indie-pop or Drones' doom-laden rawkenrawl. But.. they're fucking awesome.
Production genius..something..like I was saying...eclectic...genre-delineating...see..drums..it all makes sense..What?
Anyway, stick this in your indie-electronica crack pipe and smoke it:
Hell yeah. Sounds like... if you took the shimmering electric/electronic vibes of the very-rad Ratatat, then wore the sheen off a little with a lot more distortion? Someone else brought up Steve Albini's apparently-seminal 80s punk/noise/beats project Big Black. Seminal eh? Never heard of 'em. Next on the listening list, perhaps... that there wiki-scription reads as tasty as taco's. Ahem. Whoever or whatever they sound like, they sound fucking sick. UK music press heavyweight NME thinks so too, and with CIVIL CIVIC obviously having completed 'indie-brand management strategy' and 'using the viral marketing machine to your advantage' classes somewhere along the way - [erm, don't forget to order your limited-to-100-copies-and-only-on-retro-reel-to-reel-cassette copy of their debut 4-track EP. In the colour of the customer's choice, for fuck's sake. Hehe.] - there's basically no chance they won't be making headlines in no times. For a cassette, or a free MP3 download of the single version of 'Life Unless', head over to their blog here.
Friday, March 5, 2010
go over the sea...
no new pin number
no no no
no phone number
coming apart
dick smith, talk to the fuckwits
gamble ‘em
go... go.. go.
bandanna lad
carn ya little piece'a
hiss
thirty
that beer and fish
on the dock
it's fishy business
the shop floats
fresh as fresh
i am not
distillery
delirious
55% malt
fuck-me-dead-delicious
gorgeous girl, with a walking stick
stomp the hill
lean a tree
drink ‘em, eat ‘em
eat ‘em, drink ‘em
drugs with children, free and easy
smiling stupid
my dad
climbed the tower
on top mt. wellington,
no ropes or nothin'
i’ve lived in spain and england
this joint is the pits
fooled by the sea
could've fooled me
stay in school
inside jokes
toothless helmut codeine rat
ouch in his eyes
of course
rat don't either
nothin' for nobody
on the way
a bus
a plane
spew on the sandsteps
stoned like the same old
same old
rain delay
read the world away
underwhelming
overhearing
unconvincing
airport security
cig in hand
phone the other
drugs
he’ll sort it out
be careful
he’s always careful
he's sorry
kindred spirit in the air
doof doof doof
picture of a skateboard
pockets full of shit
we'll get along great
drop through the cloud
a familiar film
turbo turbulence
new friends dead
no dropping safe
bank over the bay
arteries of light
slice the suburbscape
down but alive
an hour long wait
hit this city
the trains are off
a wallet feels woeful
a weird warm
the sky spits
walk down tram tracks
smell the steam
wander down wrong st
smell the smackusations
think about feminism
stare at your sex-objects
mate
hitching on main st
flag 'em all
not the yellow
soaked to the bone
need a pick-me-up
all ways but one
lift?
a man in a nice car
alert and alarmed
i used to run nightclubs
i’m too old
i'm gay for pay
i drive girls to jobs
i’ll drive you home
not too bad
free of charge
just keep it together
no no no
no phone number
coming apart
dick smith, talk to the fuckwits
gamble ‘em
go... go.. go.
bandanna lad
carn ya little piece'a
hiss
thirty
that beer and fish
on the dock
it's fishy business
the shop floats
fresh as fresh
i am not
distillery
delirious
55% malt
fuck-me-dead-delicious
gorgeous girl, with a walking stick
stomp the hill
lean a tree
drink ‘em, eat ‘em
eat ‘em, drink ‘em
drugs with children, free and easy
smiling stupid
my dad
climbed the tower
on top mt. wellington,
no ropes or nothin'
i’ve lived in spain and england
this joint is the pits
fooled by the sea
could've fooled me
stay in school
inside jokes
toothless helmut codeine rat
ouch in his eyes
of course
rat don't either
nothin' for nobody
on the way
a bus
a plane
spew on the sandsteps
stoned like the same old
same old
rain delay
read the world away
underwhelming
overhearing
unconvincing
airport security
cig in hand
phone the other
drugs
he’ll sort it out
be careful
he’s always careful
he's sorry
kindred spirit in the air
doof doof doof
picture of a skateboard
pockets full of shit
we'll get along great
drop through the cloud
a familiar film
turbo turbulence
new friends dead
no dropping safe
bank over the bay
arteries of light
slice the suburbscape
down but alive
an hour long wait
hit this city
the trains are off
a wallet feels woeful
a weird warm
the sky spits
walk down tram tracks
smell the steam
wander down wrong st
smell the smackusations
think about feminism
stare at your sex-objects
mate
hitching on main st
flag 'em all
not the yellow
soaked to the bone
need a pick-me-up
all ways but one
lift?
a man in a nice car
alert and alarmed
i used to run nightclubs
i’m too old
i'm gay for pay
i drive girls to jobs
i’ll drive you home
not too bad
free of charge
just keep it together
nothing like you...
I arrive home from Tassie to the new Frightened Rabbit album.
There is a Victorian god.
Rapidshare that shit. Or even buy it.
Frightened Rabbit deserve your money more than you do.
I'm staying in bed for a week with headphones and a cup of tea.
The second single, "Nothing Like You":
Sounding slicker than the bare-bones boner of Midnight Organ Fight..
The lilting melodies and the voice for the emotional ages remain.
See you in a week.
=)
There is a Victorian god.
Rapidshare that shit. Or even buy it.
Frightened Rabbit deserve your money more than you do.
I'm staying in bed for a week with headphones and a cup of tea.
The second single, "Nothing Like You":
Sounding slicker than the bare-bones boner of Midnight Organ Fight..
The lilting melodies and the voice for the emotional ages remain.
See you in a week.
=)
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