respect?

Well well well, some smart arse tagger has stabbed me right in the heart.

Banksy, an extremely well known stencil artist graced inner Melbourne with his art on Flinders lane right opposite the police station (haha god bless him).

"Banksy woz ere" oh fuck off, go do something original.

B&D&O

I have three letters for you-

B

D

O

These three letters can only mean one thing, Big Day Out and those three words equate to a days length of music and sun and bass and treble and trouble and sun hats and noise and hidden corners where one goes to for peace and speakers and bouncers and boys and girls and men and women and food and drinks and smiles and photos and scene kids and indie kids and wow, I'm 139 dollars down but by January the 26th ill be up up up up in the air with joy.

EPIC

8 full hours of post punk rock and roll metally goodness was exactly what I needed.

By youths and for youths the Epic Festival was jam-packed with up'n'coming high school garage bands and three well knows The Quarters The Refunds and non other than British India.

photo credit: moi!

fafafa feeling blue [reel of film 1]

Oh Boy

One thing that annoys me a hell of a lot more than anything else is when people give speeches and they relate everything back to personal stories...
"the other day I was driving car"
"while I was watching T.V"
"I read a book"
"I made eye contact with a complete stranger and suddenly I came to a revelation!"

Don't you think it's sad that these people live their lives knowing that everything they did had to have deeper meaning just so come next public event they could crap on and on and on some more?...

So to the worst offender here is a new acronym for you...
L.O.C
LOAD OF CRAP

A+

Eveline Tarunadjaja inspires my art my poetry my mind my actions my life...

I yawned I cried

It was my biggest nightmare.
A dark room with lots of strangers, more than two hours of torture, an over botoxed lady and an arrogant man with an ugly body and insanely bad chest hair.

Baz Luhrman you haven't done it again.
Although McCain?! Keep up the bloody good work.

The Mute Prophet

On the weekend I had a stall, I sold clothes and teapots and old powder puff compacts from the 50's. The money I earned was fairly ace but the greatest thing happened and it was...

Just picture a man dressed in furs and skins and coffee coloured materials walking bare foot, leaning on his magnificently carved walking stick, with dread locks, wrinkled skin and wise eyes.

"He doesn't speak, he thinks he is a prophet"
"A prophet?"
"Yes, A prophet!"

So as this man walked around the market my eyes walked with him until!
*suspense increases*

The prophet approached my stall, we made eye contact, I looked away.
He Nodded, I admit to blushing and slouching a little.
He said "How Much?" pointing to an unimportant object on my table, I freaked out, smiled and slowly nodded.

Not only does this make me extremely happy but it brakes my heart to think that all this time no one thought he talked and hence did not talk to him...

So the meaning of all of this ranting IS, that even if you suspect someone is a mute prophet do not hold back and chat.
You never know, maybe he will want to know the price of an umimportant object on your table too.

3mins

Don't be fooled the 'Endless Song of Happiness' goes for exactly three minutes.

For Laughs

[electro remix of obscure indie band plays in background]

JEAN-JACQUES: Ooh Marie, I love your 80s-vibe make-up.
MARIE: Thanks, it took ages, but I think it's totally different and hip.
JEAN-JACQUES: You know what's different and hip? Wayfarers.
MARIE: And fluoro.
JEAN-JACQUES: And looking bug-eyed.
MARIE: And girls making out with girls.
JEAN-JACQUES: And getting your tits out.
MARIE: And acting like a celebrity when you're not.
JEAN-JACQUES: Yeah. It's fun to be fashionable and ahead of everybody else. Did you see the latest Vice? I was totally in the DOs section. Well, not me; my brother. Well, my brother's friend. Actually it was a guy my brother's friend thinks he saw at a party once. Four years ago.
MARIE: Sweeeet.

laperolog.com

Oh Wow, You Leave Tonight.

A Month And A Bit Is A Month And A Bit Too Long.

This Kid, Right?

While I was eating my dinner at the Abotsford Convent, a little fair haired boy came up to my table.
"Watch this!"
So I did.
As he punched the air in front of him and made obscene 'KA-POW' noises, he turned to me and said...
"That's how I KILL people, I'm a baddy!", smile stretched across his face.

Why, Oh Why is killing, and murder and the infamous life style so glorified in Little Boy and Big Boy's Mind's?

Thats Enough!

"They ripped all my gazaeleas off their stems and put them on my porch, right infront of my door! so it was the first thing I saw in the morning before I got my newspaper, as if the worlds bad news wasn't enough!"

- Erma, just another elderly citizin on my street.

Mid Exam Boredom.

Sitting in the back seat
Looking to the side
Watching rain on the window pain
I said
Let me out of here
Get me out of this place
Let me run in the rain
And wash away the pains.

Just a song I wrote during a certain maths exam.

lalalaxx

I Was Curious

I don't know about you, but my household vacuum is really loud.
The last thing I would want to do or be able to do is listen to music whilst vacuuming.
But knowing this, knowing that the possibility of listening to music whilst vacuuming isn't possible, I bought a CD today from a fete...
'Songs for vacuuming'
Please don't judge me it was only 50 cents and when I'm not actually vacuuming the ever so Mexican beat is oh so cheerful

But I fear, just as I suspected when I'm actually sucking little rampant dust mites out of my carpet all I can here is the droning sound of the vacuum.
I was curious.
And as they say... Curiosity killed the cat

or in this instance curiosity made the cat deaf to Mexican music whilst vacuuming?

Frame Games

Rah.Rah.Rah
I've been shopping for new frames
So I can see past your games
And shield my eyes
From willing spies
My inside
Is for me to hide...

Beyond The Fence of No. 10

Today was exactly what I needed an insight into the curious world of neighboring beings, foreign families and old gay men with dandy wall paper.

For 15 years I have been living on my street and for 15 years I knew not one of my neighbors. Sure I used to go to John from Poland’s house but even that was an act of greed, they had Looney tunes videos and I did not, they bred budgerigars in their back yard and found the interesting if not weird and curious. It was all very superficial. I knew them but I didn’t KNOW them.

So as I was tagging along with my mother on a mission to meet the people next door and convert them to veggie gardening, I got that little bit excited. Who lived beyond the fence of number 10 and what was their story…

What once was presumably green grass crunched under our feet as we wandered over to the front door which sported a lovely chrome door handle and not a peel of paint in sight. As a weathered hand curled around the edge of the door, someone behind it cleared his throat and quite queerly said “oh hello”. Who would have guessed in this very conservative town of mine on this very main stream street we had our very own resident old homosexual man. Whoopee! The rest of our meet and greet was a blur as I couldn’t keep my eyes off his amazingly kitsch wall paper and gold sapphire ring.

Turns out my mum and him shared a hate for possums “kill them all” he said “their piss is putrid absolutely putrid…”

“How am I meant to smell the roses when the possums piss on them at night?”

That’s life no matter how bad it smells, How dense the clouds or loud the sounds. You have to push past and dodge the thorns and smell the fucking roses no matter how many nocturnal son of a bitches have pissed on them. hahaha...but in all seriousness.

Le Media

Close my door

Turn up my music loud so loud
it hurts to listen but not as much as it does
To listen to you and him and them and the news
All bad news your bad news and now
Inside my room ears hurting music loud so loud it hurts
All I want is good news
But I’m just too scared to turn off my music and listen…

The media, a cold and biased device used to turn country against country, brother against brother and stereotype agasinst stereotype.

Mr. friend: "I respect the media, as much as I deplore them... Their eyes are ours."

If their eyes are ours then cant we look somewhere else?

Thats like saying we are in control...

Our eyes are theirs

They have control...for now

*insert evil laugh*

Milestones

photo credit: thecobrasnake

Milestone No.1 (overcome)

To elect and accept a Black President.

Milestone No.2 (to achieve)

To not see Milestone No.1 as a Milestone at all.

Irony Alert

photo credit: frankie

"Beef flavoured soy patties well that's ironic"

Poem No.1

photo credit: frankie

And all the boys and girls perched in the tree
Singing quietly like a silent symphony
They sang...

“Love is better understood by a child
Tension mild, minds wild and hearts still beating fast
Love is best when one is 5 at heart and simply young
Love is best when life first begun”

So there I stood

As I should

And listened to their rhyme

I must of looked quite quaint and small

And my actions looked like mime.

lalala x

My First Truth

At the age of five or so my mother and I crossed the west gate bridge. I cast my eyes out over the industrialized town and asked "mummy, what are they?" pointing to a factory. "they're cloud makers honey"
For months, I would cross that bridge and smile, those factories were there for good they made clouds a safe and soft place to rest, to land, to escape to.

But as those months passed I became curiouser and curiouser asking questions "do some factories make rain clouds mummy?" "what happens if the factories break down mummy?". It was only a matter of time I found out the cold and harsh truth...

My cloud makers were what were killing our earth? I welled up. I suppose oceans wern't made of happy tears either and the sun wasn't the sparkle in gods eye?

It was when I was five or so I learnt to handle the truth.