March 2007


Dave rolls out of bed after stopping the alarm for the fourth time. His feet his the floor with a thump and he drifts upright, his head lightening as he ascends. As luck would have it, he is spared to worst pressures of vertigo by his diminutive stature. He stumbles to towards the door, switching on the light as he exits the room and makes his way to the toilet.


He returns, walks to his small kitchenette, rubs sleep from his eyes, farts loudly, and makes coffee. He walks back into the bedroom, and proceeds to switch on the large, hulking, dark, and generally impressive Array occupying perhaps half a wall of his bedroom. He hears the coffee boiling, and exits while his machinery warms up.


“Thank god for Saturdays… I say…” he mumbles as he makes his way back to the Array. He checks the hard-visual display. He taps the cable modem to ensure the lights are flickering correctly. As is his habit he checks the Bathing helmet, ensuring the ports are properly and tightly connected, putting it on briefly to check that no light or noise pollution is leaking in. He seats himself in his chair and sighs, tapping at the hard-keys on the chair arm. He leans forward to look a little more closely at the hard-visual, “Well then Mr. Computer,” he mutters, “who do you have for me today?” (more…)

An interesting article here in The Age. A Korean bloke in San Francisco has strapped a webcam to his head, and is streaming it live to the whole world. Now, if you didn’t see this coming a mile off then you’re obviously ‘not all that switched on’ to the interweb.


Verdict of Justin’s life so far? Actually kind of boring.


But, as an indication of how hip and onto it I am (not), I used this idea for the premise of the characters ‘the Jacobite’ and ‘Thievery’ in The Fault. I called it ‘bathing’, the idea being that you submerge yourself in the consciousness and experiences of another person.


A thought occured to me today. What if you’re bathing and something really bad happens? Something violent? Do you try to stop what’s happening? Or do you sit and watch?

Well, it’s been an interesting week of discussions about Islamic migrants. Actually… I’m not even sure that I should be using the term ‘Islamic migrants’ because it seems like most of these migrants are actually nationals of some particular variety who also happen to be Muslim. Would you say ‘Christian migrants’ when talking about Europeans? No. You wouldn’t. And why? Because you’d sound like a dick. (more…)

It had been a day much like any other, Glenis attendance at work only noticeable by the slow movement of her shoulders as she breathed out the minutes to smoko. That, and the impressive bulk of her frame.

She looked again to the doorway of the shop, and returned to gazing out the windows at the apartment over the road. Soon… soon… he would appear. (more…)

The toned shoulders of the professional time-waster rippling beneath the bomber jacket of the fashion insensible, stocky legs in camouflage pants and para-but-never-quite-cut-it-militarily boots, the dull polished visage of the partially unconscious beneath a sharp haircut. Gary stood near the mirrored windows of a shoe store waiting for his lady, and muttered, “Fuck… I’m hot.”

The mussel-haired eyebrows and myopia of the terminal-jockey, an animated wonder saved to manifest in proximity to flesh and blood, the self-protective sideways glance, Gerald chattered in the door of the long-since too-long-open games shop, thinking, “but if you close the door, I will be alone.”

Well, in a word? Disappointing. My main complaint about this book is how damn long Banks took to actually get around to anything resembling the actual action the plot required.

Here’s the go, the plot is: “Extremely evil” ™ invasion fleet heading for isolated system on edge of galaxy. Hero must prove existence of secret of alien wormhole hidden by aliens living in local gas giant to save the day. Simple, right? (spoiler to follow) (more…)

well, in a word, ordinary. if these are telecom’s best prospects, then we’re all as doomed as those lost fools using xtra.

i shouldn’t be too harsh. some of the young artists included in the exhibition definitely had the feel of ‘rising’ talent, meaning they seemed to have potential to produce some truly interesting pieces. other stuff was just shit.

the stuff i liked is anything that demonstrated a young artist learning their craft, perhaps making a few mistakes, but generally honing their skills. the infinity guitar case was interesting for example. the big cardboard box that occasionally jumped like something was under it? very well made, but the idea was a little dull. giant canvasses with paint smeared all over them? boring, and not very arty. evokes strong connotations of “4 year old niece”.

there were a few bloody awful paintings like that in there, more than a few, and the exhibition is really only saved by the craft and sculpture.

i’ll have to go back and take another look. i think after a couple of drinks on a friday night i’m not 100% focussed on art, and having luke buda belting out chimes in the background was a little distracting. all in all though, “good side of average”

OK. A bash at writing a film review. Hopefully I’ll improve over time.

Great film. Having been exposed to the mysteries wrought by sleep blurring into waking states (side of effect of me heart medication, will explain in another post), I can state that Michel Gondry has this one all wrapped up. Except I never see crushed velvet horses… or cars made of toilet rolls.

The overall intent of the film seems to be an attempt to charm the audience with a protagonist who’s at heart a confused boy who never really connects with the real world. He’s an artist who meets a kindred soul, and sets out to win her heart. Clumsily. (spoilers past the jump) (more…)

This post was my thought for an initial offering to guest post on Public Address, but after a little prompting from Russell I composed the gourmet-Melbourne blog instead. I thought I’d run this one here though, on account of a little to-do that popped up in the papers a few weeks back about the cost of going to the Treaty grounds.


I think it’s appropriate that the Treaty grounds fail to inspire awe. I know that other nations insist that the birthplace of their collective spirit be a monument, but the Waitangi Treaty grounds just didn’t really give me any breath-taking moments to take away. (more…)

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