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Monday
Jan212008

Edit Copy Edit

I have about fifty billion words to write ahead of my Aussie Metal Month at Harm.us. I'm a journalist now, and that's what journalists do. Write until their fingers bleed. I was anxious the other day at the Elemental Burn EP Launch, interviewing the band and scribbling down whatever evocative and poignant bullshit I could dare to churn out at that particular moment. For a blues/death rock/metal combo, they have a lot of heart and they've got a lot of soul, but their line up needs work. Too bad the lead guitarist (whose chops are admirable) won't sacrifice his warbling wife for the good of the whole any time soon.

Nevertheless, despite the overwhelming workload, I'm very much getting used to hanging out with bands back stage. Talking shit with them, letting them buy me beer, making out with their groupies. Fun times. My next foot in the proverbial door should be at Vampora's next gig. If I can network my arse off there, I'll be set. Oh, and that minor obstacle of getting a run in a print magazine that people have actually heard of might help too.

I should really start doing some work. I do have a Queensland holiday to pay off, after all.

Sunday
Jan202008

Welcome Back To Here

I think I've finally outgrown my adolescent Live Journal, so I'm transferring everything over to my shiny old Blogspot blog. Just realizing i've had my LJ since 2004 is a bit disheartening; I've gone through two schools, two 'proper' girlfriends, even more flings and hook-ups, countless friends and acquaintances, two pairs of great headphones (alas), three or four jobs, read thousands of pointless words, and thankfully, two regime changes - one more dubious than the other. Hopefully by the end of this year it'll be a different mode of transport, a different place and a career. I want to go to the United States by the end of this year. I will be there. I will be in Washington, D.C. when they tally the votes as they are handed in. I've said all these things a million times before, my own drive to shift inside is giving me the impetus to change. I have changed, in some small ways. I will make this happen. My beliefs tell me so. I don't have to sit back and wait any more - Now my questions regarding life will be more "What are you doing for me?" instead of "What have you done to me?" Sounds empowering. And just a little arrogant. Just a little.

Sunday
Dec042005

This Society of Mine

I'm impotently enraged. There's a poison well of apathy running through Australian society; the spectre of conservatism. We've had 9 years of conservative Coalition government in this country, and it seems like the defenders of the status quo has prevailed all too easily. Conservatism is rife throughout every major fundamental institution - education discourages different streams of ideas by insisting upon arguments be positioned within already established norms. They may as well be reaching for an independent thought supressant any time someone has a new idea. And no one does - the right has condemned the left to take up a contrary position till the end of time. So much for the end of ideology. Even art has conceded that originality is dead, the advocates of postmodernism believing simulation is better than reality. Politics is irrevocably backward, art, music, fashion, major services and the media. What's happened to this society of mine? What happened to the age of enlightenment? What can I do about it, apart from sit on my arse and stagnate in my own stew of simmering hatred and contempt? It doesn't look like much from out here...

Saturday
Nov262005

Wired Artillery

Blogging it seems is like starting something you can never end. You are compelled to write in it when you haven't anything in the slightest to say and continue to do so for no discernible reason. But another startling revelation i've had is the fact that blogging seems to prevent such occurances from happening; it creates a culture of groupthink that people cling on to, to their detriment. Since some forms of communication can be replacements for face-to-face contact, and assuming that my beliefs on extreme mis/interpretations over the internet are justified and correct, many "friends" on my friends list are not even acquaintances (or they have set a precendent of "friendship" in the past); they are merely political tools to curry favor or to placate others within a social heirarchy. With that fact being valid, they fall into cycles of self-inflicted recycling of ideas, themes or stories. For example, many people have highlighted the importance of being able to become comfortable with oneself instead of filling a void with an ultimately neurotic relationship. These premises are the foundations of Rational-Emotive Behavior Therapy, a branch of therapeutic psychology that I have studied to further my own insights into the human mind, and to keep myself in optimal mental health. This theme has permeated many a post, and will continue to into the future. The question remains if these people have all partaken in a group realization without actually having experienced this fact for themselves? Does the feeling stick, or is it forgotten with the remnants of the day? It's an interesting fact to consider, nevertheless.

I pray for employment or fruitful occupation. Unfortunately, Santa couldn't even promise it for me. He was the Myer department store Santa, after all...he knows his stuff.

Monday
Nov072005

They Are My Lethe

I've been having random visions, strange dreams. They continue unabated...but what do they mean? I endeavor to find out.

Society shits me. The norms and conventions that we have created just imbue more disorder into a soup of untraverseable turbulence. I cannot talk about certain subjects to many people, due to what I have done, what I have not done, and what I wish I never did. The awkwardness permeates every droll note that we exchange, both regretting our chance encounter until the conversation abruptly ends. They ponder about the sentences given, if they revealed too much of their psyche than they would likely admit. Their curiosity gives way to their ambivalence and the matter is repressed into the nether reaches of their minds. If only it were that simple. Despite our best wishes, we cannot turn back the clock - the memories of these people still exist - and so do they. Do we want to converse as we once did, like old times? That is a question I can never answer.