what rhymes with chaos?

350 PROJECT

        The art of writing is by its very nature hermetic. It’s one of the few jobs in the world where being a depressed, introverted alcoholic may actually be of assistance. Well, that and claims adjusting perhaps.

  +  + x =

  this is a summation of everything I learnt in 3 years of studying literature.

    In any case, as much as I love being cloistered away in my literary lair accompanied by only the dull blue glow of my laptop, a near infinite supply of mi goreng and the sounds of the dirty three, I do occasionally need to venture outside into the great wide world with its billboards, traffic jams, ikea stores and balloon boy hoaxes.    

    In the last two years I've busied myself with the chalk project, and the 4C arts collective and I’m working on a new abandoned building project. In the interrum I decided to assist my incredible friend, Anna; (the only person I know who is a brilliant scientist, environmental activist AND artist), with her 350 project.

      Anna stitched up these patches which a few of us then covertly distributed around Paddington in the dead of night. Okay, it was more like half nine, but seriously, graffiti artists take note: Paddington at 9.30 on a Monday is like Rupert Murdoch’s conscience; completely silent.

The genius of using these patches is that they are not only incredibly eye catching and made from recycled material but they also cause no permanent damage to property. We really didn’t have to worry about police presence because although we didn’t exactly write to Campbell can’t-fucking-do-anything-right Newman for permission, I doubt we would have had too much trouble from the po-lease even if they had spotted us.

For more information on 350 click here: http://www.350.org/

 Or to access getup.org.au's information on how to be involved locally click here:

http://www.getup.org.au/community/gettogethers/series.php?id=27

And remember, every time you read the twilight series or the vampire diaries, Ronald Macdonald sets a tree on fire and kills a panda.

 

VAMPIRES, ROCKSTARS, TWITTER AND MY BOOK (WHICH MENTIONS NONE OF THESE).

My debut novel, A Beginner's Guide to Dying in India, was released in America last week. Although it won't see release here in Australia until next month, I was obviously fairly excited to be a thrilling 683,960th on amazon.com's sales ranking. This means that there are exactly 683 959 books that are better promoted, better written or just better in general than mine. Titles currently outselling my book include: the brilliantly titled The Clique #8: Sealed with a Diss: A Clique Novel (Clique Series),

           
         

and Sarah: How a Hockey mum turned the Political Establishment upside down. Interesting side note, the original title for this book was Sarah Palin: the hockey mum who can 'practically see Russia from her house.'

Since my book has been released it's received the glowing personal recommendations  of old housemates the grates and randomly shown up at the top of a list of travel books in Japan.

 

Amazon.com describes it as 'Part comedy, part tragedy, part henna-drawn thriller peppered with romance and intrigue...a spiritual journey across the continents of the soul.' but there aren't any vampires, wizards, references to twitter or religious cults being investigated by dashing  yet  surprisingly inept cryptologists so I'm obviously out of touch with what the (mainstream) public wants.

Case in point: my original blurb for the book. My publisher rejected this on the grounds that 'It's not nice to insult your audience on the back cover.' Why not? Plenty of my readers will insult me I'm sure! I felt it deserved seeing the light of day, if only on the internet, enjoy:

So, you’ve picked up this book from the shelf of a bookstore or library or friend’s place and you are thinking to yourself: ‘perhaps this particular novel shall distract me from the dull drudgery of my life? Perhaps it contains the elements which I find desirous within a piece of literary fiction?’

As it so happens, this novel contains five of the following ten subjects, you are free to select which of these you hope it contains and then peruse its contents to see if you are correct. For those of you who elect to continue, welcome aboard. It’s going to be a hell of a ride. To those who are about to return this book to the shelf or hurl it away in disgust, perhaps you’d be better off with a Jackie Collins novel? You obviously have terrible taste.

 A Beginner’s Guide to Dying in India may contain traces of:

1 Black humour

2 Philosophical discourse

3 Excessive references to Ricky Ponting

4 Travel

5 The threat of international terrorism!

6 Revenge

7 Car chases

8 Explosions!!!!

9 Politics

10 Love conquering against all odds (followed by making out in the parking lot)

 In addition to being a source of literary entertainment, A Beginner’s Guide to Dying in India may also be employed as a highly effective paperweight, moderately effective source of kindling or rather ineffective weapon in hand to hand combat.

If you want to buy the book to use for any of the above purposes you can get it from here: amazon.com and preview it online here: google books

 

If you prefer the anachronistically tangible experience of using your legs to enter a store and talking to a human to make your purchases then you can order it at any bookstore in Americaville or Canadatown. If you like the book and want to write a glowing review I would be eternally grateful. If you hate it please send all scathing literary criticism to my personal email address: [email protected]

 

SOUNDS OF SPRING REVIEW (simulcast from 4zzz)

You’d be forgiven for thinking that 2009’s Sounds of Spring was a government conspiracy to lure all the violent bogans in Brisbane into one concentrated area for scientific observation. Whilst shirtless, ass-grabbing, beer can-hurling jerks are an unfortunate certainty at just about any festival, today it seems like they constitute the vast majority of the crowd, by way of illustration:

Astronomy class

One of many elefant traks artists on the S.O.S. bill. Astronomy Class deliver a solid, high energy set. Bass lines from here ‘til new year underpin fluid flows and rapid rhymes. This is a group that obviously loves what they do and they crowd responds enthusiastically. Although, just quietly, most of the people in the tent appear so blitzed that you could just place one of those toy monkeys with a cymbal and a motorised disco ball in front of them and tell them it was the chemical brothers and they’d be happy.

Hermitude

Another elefant traks act, this is a duo that not only takes the cake, but remixes it into a delicious funk and hash laced truffle. This is top level instrumental hip-hop. Fuzzed up, dubbed out, spliced up beats and scratches all cut up with the samples that matches. It’s not every day you see a group that can seamlessly blend dubstep, dancehall, salsa and aussie hip-hop all within the time it takes to prepare a pack of maggi noodles. Hermitude pull out some crowd pleasing scratch technique and keytar solos that leave an already ecstatic crowd nearly catatonic with glee.

The Fauves

Stalwarts of the underground rock scene (I was going to say indie, but that word has been inconveniently re-appropriated) the Fauves are a solidly entertaining act. Bouncy basslines form the backdrop to some very catchy melodies and hilariously self-effacing banter; both in lyrics and between songs. If you want to quit your job, start dating a girl who works in a comic book/record store and start a band then this is the perfect soundtrack for your misadventures.

 

British India

Obviously a band that is well suited a festival crowd, British India tear straight into a riotous set that has punters singing along at the top of their soon to be dust-encumbered lungs. The radio singles are the obvious highlights; ‘run the red light’ in particular is well received. The band don’t waste a lot of time with banter, but make use of the ol’ live version breakdown/build up and give the crowd more they want in spades. A mid set power cut only serves to enamour punters even more when the amps click back on. The band rip through a selection of old and new material, before departing to thunderous applause.

The Panics

The WA based 5 piece draw their material tonight almost entirely from the excellent ‘Cruel Guards’ record. Making their way through the uplifting JJJ favourite ‘Don’t fight it,’ the majestic ‘Get us home’ and the sombre but enchanting title track of their recent album. ‘Ruins’ would have been a set highlight for me, if not for the couple who instead on furiously macking in front of me. Just a note to you two lovebirds: singing along to a song where the lead vocal hook is: “I don’t know what we’ll become / I just know that I’m not the one / Yeah I know that I’m not the one.” with absolutely no trace of irony whilst staring sickeningly into each other’s eyes may have been hilarious if it wasn’t so tragic.

Little Birdy

Fellow Perth pop-rockers (what the hell do you call people from Perth? Help me wikipedia help me!) Little Birdy take the stage next, opening with catchier than syphilis-on-a-convict-ship single ‘come on, come on.’ A black and white clad Katy Steele leads the band through a wide selection of material old and new including ‘Relapse,’ ‘Beautiful to me’ and other helium voice drenched pop melodies. The songs form a strangely sweet sonic backdrop to the arrival of a dust storm that makes the sky resemble the set of Apocalypse now.

The Butterfly Effect

The Butterfly effect deliver everything you’d expect and then some, their set is a sonic wall loud guitars paired with Clint’s distinctive melodic roar backed by a solid rhythm section. No strangers to the festival stage, the Brissie quartet have the crowd in the palms of their sweaty hands. Regardless, all I can think whenever I see this band’s name is how pissed off they must have been when that 2004 Ashton Kutcher movie came out.

Unfortunately at this point I was forced to depart due to the least rock and roll end to an evening possible: severe and heinous reaction to tiny dust particles that caused my brain to feel as though it had been invaded by two morris dancing elephants. I’ll make up for it by getting into a fight with a bouncer Lady Sovereign style next weekend, I promise.