Bottlo *

So many people I see in this bottlo appear to be alive only because there’s nothing else to do. At least that’s what they might think. What is the point then?

I found myself just the other day watching a bloke as he left the bottleshop. I couldn’t help muttering out loud to myself “what is the point of your life?” You see it gets to you after a while, the endless parade of hopeless souls.

- “Where’s the other bloke?” Here’s another one on the back seat of a car load of hopeless souls, having just secured their pre-lunch 6 for $10 bourbon-n-cola cans.

“I don’t know who you mean mate” He’s looking for some sort of discount or deal. I’m really not in the mood for this.

“You know…the other blokes?” He gesticulates in description. Indicates two blokes to me.

“They’re not here”

They drive out of the bottlo. When I’m sure they won’t hear me I mutter “Actually mate, I know where they are, they’re around your mum’s house working on a new mong race”

I don’t think I used to be this unsympathetic.

Is it every man for himself? Is it? It must be. Because otherwise what else could this all mean in a society where so many people are struggling through they’re lives. What am I referring to by ‘This’? The hopelessly under-educated and socially dysfunctional people I see every morning. They’ve got no money but they spend it on grog anyway. They limp and drag their feet slowly up the hill toward us. Like a scene from a zombie movie. The Dead Living.

How can we be so rich and have failed so many?

A Young guy left his wallet on the bar last night. It’s gone. Well actually he’s not sure where he left it. He’d had more than a few. He checks in the bottlo the next morning. Has anyone found it or handed it in? He had $300 in his wallet last night. The entire remains of his social security. After the young guy has left the bottlo, I’m standing there wondering how he could be so bloody stupid as to “get on the piss” with all the money he has stored in his wallet. How could anyone be that stupid? As if on cue – enter stage right: his dad. His 68 year old pensioner alcoholic father has come in to pick up his pre-breakfast 6 for $10 bourbon and cola cans …but more from him in a bit.

Why does…how can…such a wealthy society fail so many of its people?

This morning I just want to cry.

I feel paralysed by rage. What is my rage about?

My rage is about my inability to make a life with meaning. I can’t even just ‘blah’ on about financial goals and rewards anymore. Because I can see it’s not gonna be enough to just make money. On its own that is not going to give me meaning. Although as the comedic like to observe, it might dull the pain of the emptiness.

“You want a bag for that bottle mate?”

“Nah mate. We’ll smash that before we get home!”

I flew into a rage before. I’ve been doing some boxing training for a couple of years now. Just to get fit. My ex-girlfriend said to me recently that I seemed to her to be “more violent” than I used to be. “More aggressive somehow”… funny thing is, that little argument I had with her just made me want to cry…I mean I was sitting there trying to defend myself against her assessments and then that welling up in the eyes, a slight feeling you might choke, then a calm…a loss of self and then a strange sad remorse. Things lost. Things once, now gone.

“Did anyone hand in a wallet?” Now the Dad’s doing his bit. “My son was in the bar last night. He had $300 in his wallet. Says he put it on the bar. When he remembered to look, it was gone.”

I want to jump the counter and shake this poor old man. Ask him what the fuck he’s doing, why is his son a moron? What sort of fucking example are you setting by buying booze before breakfast every morning?!

I’m so full of rage at the moment. It begins to consume me.

Maybe it’s just because I have been recovering from a flu. It’s been a while since I wanted to punch anything. I came close to punching the duty manager this morning. Fortunately for us both, he scurried away. Unfair weight advantage. I guess I am more capable of violence than before. Better able. Maybe my ex was right. I felt the boxing drills this morning. I felt the boxing hands pour out of me. I was sick last night, but the hands exploded out of me. Flurry and fury. I had to write up five cans and 2 cartons to breakages.

The training probably has made a difference.

“You got any specials on beer mate?”

“Slabs?”

“What the bloody hell else would I want?”

“Just there” I wave my hand across, indicating the long line of display slabs and blocks six feet from his car window. The ones covered in paper signs marked “Specials”.

“How much is VB?”

“$38 mate”

“Bullshit” He drives off.

“Yup nice one. Petrol is $1.50 a litre mate. Enjoy that $2 you're gonna try save!”

Later though, when I think about it more, I develop some sympathy. I can’t really blame this guy and his ilk. I mean all they want is some beers after work and the price keeps going up every three months. Then they try to remember the last time they’re wages went up.

After I punched some boxes, punched a door, pushed over the ladder and kicked the shit through a beer sign, I did some primal screaming…

Well all I really wanted was to have a cry. I must be depressed. Isn’t that what they’d say?

Rage and feelings of futility, inability to cry…or inability to stop crying. It’s gotta be a textbook outline of depression. Doesn’t it?

Fuck all that. I just want some meaning.

- “Has your son asked the bar manager if they have found a wallet this morning?”

“Yeah well I dunno you see…my son was so angry….so angry… he was screaming and yelling and carrying on. Blimey… I’m only a pensioner you know. I told him there’s nothing I can do. I’m broke. The boy’s smashing stuff up. Stupid boy does his whole fortnights money in a night!” He stares out of the bottlo at nothing in particular. We share a moment of silent contemplation.

-“What was he doing with all of his money in his wallet?” I ask.

The father taps the side of his head with his finger. Rolls his eyes back and pushes his tongue out the side of his mouth. He repeats these actions several times. I’m not sure who he is referring to but apparently somebody isn’t right in the head.

I’ve started having daily chats with this 66 year old alco' who lives across the road. He’s a nice enough bloke I suppose, but he’s bloody hopeless really. I’m pretty sure the only reason I think he’s nice enough now is because his age has taken the edge of his ability to be an aggressive drunken asshole. This is my male role model.

Where have all our fathers gone? We lost our fathers in the War. What fucking war?! Well there must’ve been one and we didn’t notice, because there’s scarcely a viable male leader in sight. I’m pretty sure I could benefit from the counsel of a male elder. There simply aren’t any though. Maybe I’ll evolve. Maybe I’ll become my own male figure, my own role model and my own source of inspiration. Or maybe I too will break apart, or be absorbed by consumption. Fade away… or whatever it is that happens to the men of this generation.

I’m scrambling for some meaning here… but this is and has become the whole point hasn’t it?

I shut the shop and go home. The lights are on but nobody’s home.

~

* "Bottlo" is an extract from a semi-fictional novel-in-progress of the same name. While it is based on some of my experiences it is not about me so please do not be alarmed ;-)

'Bottlo' First published on the creative arts blog Fabulist Savannah

Listening to: The Ramones (Mixed Mp3's) whilst brambling with a scythe in Normandy! True story ;-)

Savendi At Large

Dearest M.L Darling,

What day is it? I am awash in sensory input. The heightened sense of experience that some travellers get when the sensation of days stretch out and become as if weeks. Experiential time dilation kicks in and your head is spinning and you are left wondering when it was that you stepped out of the airplane and into this stream...this current that has ripped you along in so much broiling froth and light - a rub-a-dub dub. And sound-n-sounds and people from worldwide and imagining no countries. So much water having swept under the proverbial and now I turn to you in full flow and ask...in all sincerity...how long has it been? What day is it today?

Oyes...of course now that I actually pause to write this large upon the screen sat in Phnom Penh netcafe it gives me a small-space to remember it's only been 3 days. Mad Plumber will definitely remember this phenomenon from our last Thai expedition. Experience so dense that the normal sense of linear time bows out so that you cant remember anything but a head full of blessed experience... Stand up, fall down...a moment on your knees - And give thanks that you can experience the luxury of such travel. For I know that we are blessed just as Mad Plumber and I knew we were blessed in Thailand. Just as I'm sure that everyone who has been mad-awake in travel has taken a moment to reflect... Filled their lungs and pushed out on an eddy...into a small and gentle bay to take brief pause...long enough to catch up with oneself a moment. Bundle into a netcafe and share and give and write thanks. Love to you all and to all of you who have in some way helped me or encouraged me to persist and press on...to go and go and go...

I soldiertostandupsoldiertostandupsoldier - For this I thank you, for in its way it has helped me to here...Blessed.

You know who you are.
~
"Savendi at large" As titled by Mad Plumber, First appeared on the creative arts website Fabulist Savannah

Toneatron & Tommy-R-Us

The two stars of this exhibition poster are my old chums Toneatron and Tommy-R-Us!

Hell Gallery: Lisa Radford and Friends Go To Hell

You've got to love MELBOURNE!

Hoi An Balcony View

Chrome balustrade. Yellow starred red flag flapping in the wind. Cao Lau stall on Tran Cao Van. Scooters and bicycles. People wearing surgeon face masks. Fruit stall on crazy little intersection with no stop sign or lights or stop and go paraphernalia...no lines no lights just go and go and go. Huge dinosaur eggs some dark like rotten, guess there's gonna be some streetfood I'm never gonna try. Coconut palms on the near distance. Sea breeze is in and blowing. Cyclo cycles through. Swat and H20 tees. Great big dirty green tents. trad garb...old school new school and no school. Shirtless man in thongs with a necklace and jade pendant. My back aches. Wires and dark stained walls built out of mould. Painted mould. papadum snack bigger than the kids head. Strange sweet savoury mix we find so alien and common here. Hoi An coolsie kid on black rimmed peddler. Ochre paint jobs. Old lady with walking stick and hunched up back...moving pretty well though. I haven't see them smile much the old ones. Bright red mod scooter. Tourists on $1bicycles. Kids eating noodle soup and cao lau with fast moving chopsticks just off the road corner stall of red plastic chairs and tables all low down like a kids tea party set. Ice buckets, steaming buckets and a paint bucket someone left on the roof above them. Mint leaves and some salads i cant discern from here. I discover Macbook's photobooth...we stare at each other and I shoot ten photos of myself in black and white.

* 'Hoi An Balcony View' first appeared on the creative arts website Fabulist Savannah

Listening to: Bowie - Aladdin sane

Night dreams, sense and recollection.

I had this dream last night. AC and I were standing just outside of a doorway that led into a grand internal courtyard. Let me describe it further by saying: imagine an enormous Elizabethan style mansion, almost a small castle or a keep and tall with at least 3 stories. The mansion was so sprawling that it had vast internal courtyards contained within the building. Open to the sky, but flanked on all sides by the high stone walls of the mansion. AC and I were stood on the edge of this internal courtyard, next to a door we had just stepped out of. I didn’t see this, in the dream sense of “seeing”, but I sensed it. Evidently the storyline was already well underway, when my brain decided to start recording it to the forward memory that I now relay. I sensed the back-story within the dream, much as I sense now the atmosphere of what had transpired just previous to my sudden jaunt into dream consciousness (dig?). It was night and a dark one at that. We had been exploring the grand old building. It wasn’t a ruin, it was very much in use as if it were lived in by some rich family or up- kept by some historical committee or better yet as if we were back in time…in the mansions prime…suffice to say the place was alive with it’s own presence…and that works nicely leading into this next insight, which is that AC and I were pursuing a ghost or ghosts. We knew something or some things supernatural were active in this enormous building. The hair on our arms and necks stood on end. Something very old and powerful was there. We were scared, but elated. Driven by a desire to confront and maybe understand… a desire that overcame the feelings of fear…that malingering unnameable terror that welled up within us as we moved through the sprawling dimly lit mansion. Apparently we had been in somewhat of a chase. Who was chasing who I cannot say (I wasn’t there (winks aside) but action was afoot. In that moment we enter the dream AC and I were taking a breather…a moment or two…we were discussing what had been transpiring, there was a sense of brevity between us…wry smiles and quiet chuckling. We were being humorous, but our skin was bespeckled by goose bumps and the radiant atmosphere had us rubbing our hands together, shifting feet to-and-fro and shivering… although not from any cold. We had found something…a spirit or a ghost and its very existence filled the dreamscape to the point of overflowing. Elements of its energy seemed to spill into the real world. It’s corny to say, but it was as if we knew we were in a dream, but more still…it was as if we were in its dream. In unison we both looked up at one of the narrow windows high up on the wall that overlooked the courtyard. The window was open. It had only just opened and a dark slip of curtain fluttered out from within. No one could be seen in the window but we knew it was the Presence. Maybe out of fear, I don’t know why, I started to crack the wise. I heard myself say something loudly like “yeah yeah very dramatic, very spooky…just what we expected” AC joined in. We were stirring it up…giving that supernatural force a rev up...letting it know that the Diggers weren’t afraid. Something spoke up, spoke back to us. It was something unnatural. In our heads or out loud…maybe both at once… It said “Third floor NOW!” We charged back inside, off to confront this thing. Round a corner and down a wide ornately laid out corridor we ran. The atmosphere was charged with preternatural energy. I noticed a large tapestry hanging on the wall. The tapestry bowed outwards as if someone or something was crudely hiding behind it…I could see the floor beneath the tapestry and there were no feet to be seen. AC yelped as he’d seen the same thing I had. I was terrified but I pushed behind the tapestry. In that split second I let out a terrible noise like a low mournful howl, immediately followed by another a second later. It sounded a mix of exhilaration, suspense, tension and fear. It was not a pleasant sound, and I know this because it woke me up in bed. In that last millisecond within the dream I found there was nothing supernatural behind the tapestry, only an ill placed game hunters mounting. But the noise of my howl was a collision of dream and reality. It was almost as if the mansion had kicked me out of the dreamscape. AC and I had been charging into the unknown…headed for some stairs up to the third floor, summoned, challenged by some unspeakable unknown force. The shrill terror of it all…the terror was a power surge that overloaded the dreamscape…shorted out the link and left me sitting up in my bed. It was about 1am…pretty early for an intense dream in my experience. I thought of how AC had got on…did he charge onwards to the third floor? Did I disappear in front of him? Whose dream was that anyway? In the dark of my room the heavy shroud of the dream still hung heavy, refused to let go to reality…I determined to go back in. I was still groggy. I lay back down and tried to re-enter the mansion. I still felt the force of the Presence…palpable as if it really had spilled out into the room with me. There was something major and unresolved still moving me, pumping through my adrenalised heart like a possession. I lay down and before I blacked out again there was a fleeting moment of reflection, like my own third person narrator saying…this doesn’t look right…is not the same place…or is it? Then the darkness and the forgetting.

*Special love goes out to: M.L Darling, Petri Ivalo Sinda and the Mad Plumber of Fabulist Savannah, where this piece first appeared in 2008.

Listening to: Pnau

Rabbit Hill painting - Denmark

More progress on the Rabbit Hill painting. This is it for the week!

I just had to blog this piece of art in progress. I think its so great.

It appeals very much to my taste. Nice work pOps.

I'm In Denmark at the moment too. So there's a kind of continuity...dont you think? ;-)

Please check out the artists other work at his Flickr page.

Den's Listening to: Cut Copy - In Ghost Colours

Bottle Top Boat Racing

I’m working pretty hard today considering…
Considering I’ve got a flu happening…but I’m reminiscing even harder about old times and my old chum Florstar, when we were kids and bottle top-flotsam and jetsam boat racing in the man-made creeks of Sir Charlie Gardiner hospital’s parkland. It was so much fun. I remember enjoying it so much that it sears into the present now…
and I’m there, splashing water, warm air and clear blue skies. I remember a couple of little objects that became like champions to us…maybe a slightly crushed white plastic milk top and a stubby stump of anonymous orange plastic. These were vessels that won several races in a row…fast, consistent performers…continually in the top three of a race. One of our favourite flotsam-boats won again and again. The mythology grew, we had a little character here…our own private champion. Through the treacherous conditions they sped, gloried over by us as race stewards bounding nimbly across the rocky creek bed, along the slick grassy banks of the watercourse chasing fields of boats as they hurtled to the finish line. Magical play.
Then the time we lost one: A close race that put too many boats across the finish line too quickly for us to steward…too quick to gather them all, lost in the excitement of a probable dead heat, too quick to grab them all to safety as we’ve lunged and splashed… “Plastic Whiteys gone!” Shot through for a win or a place…it was too close…hit on through the rapids as we scrambled to grab the fleet…a great close race, four, five or even six vessels tightly bunched on the finish line and we’ve lost precious seconds in our roles as stewards and adjudicators…there was a race won, but by who?…Hearts pumping, paused mid stride hovered over the finish line, trying to pick the winner, then mad scramble, reports go out…The champs missing! The final collection of little boats normally a relatively simple affair…races where boats usually only came through on their own or in groups of two or three…but this whole fleet of flotsam & jetsam bundled through “race of the century!” Hair raising frozen with glee at the prospect of it all… lunging for the boats… “the boats… the boats!”
“Florstar! Have you got Plastic Whitey?”
- “Nup”
Splashing and cursing… Our little champion, our little genius piece of trash elevated to mythic nautical speedster in our minds…our new sporting world expanding with every passing second, but he’s gone…
we scour on, searching the reeds at the edge of the run through the rapids, out along the banks to the greater lake that the creek plunges into. “He’s gone through the rapids and gone out to sea!” We scan the surface of the lake but can’t see him. The excitement begins to give way to a mournful recognition that we’ve lost the champ. Reality briefly shines through the curtain of fantasy…but we were vigil:
All other races are temporarily called off. Proceedings halted. No more championship regatta till there’s been an inquiry…a reckoning. Renewed searches for the plastic fantastic Plastic Whitey. To no avail …we stop empty handed…
Everything is quieter for a few moments…just the popping and sploshing of the creek and the low distant hum of the hospital generators.
But the game must go on and there are new rounds of elimination trials to be held. Search for a new champion…up away from the creeks and reeds, by a lunch area with benches, looking for bottle caps and popsicle sticks, down by a drain entrance …push through the reeds for a bit of old rubber thong…or a shapely branch stub, or an old comb…Things we should have enshrined with notes, but time is not passing when your young and there’s no end to finding new bits-n-bobs to try their speed as grand rapids racers…and new days and new ways to celebrate our love of such story and high drama and competition…the uplift of the winners…our winners. The arvo dims and we head down Abedare road to the deli on the corner of Florstar’s street for pre-dinner hotdogs and cokes…Florstar has a twenty, he is the treasurer.

                                                                            

* Bottle Top Boat Racing first appeared on the creative arts website Fabulist Savannah

New rock is the old rock rolling…

Babel Fish

This one's for Douglas Adams I think:

Recently I got a beautiful email from our friends at A La Ferme B&B on Somme. One of the owners Jean-Claude doesn't speak a lot of English and so wrote to us in French. I had to use yahoo's Babel Fish in an attempt to translate it. The result was funny and off-kilter in a poetic way. Eli thought it would be interesting to compare how Google-Translate went with the same text so she ran it through that and got a similarly strange and yet lyrical result. Please see below the Original email in French and then the two attempted translations:

Original:

Hello les amoureux.

En Français

Merci pour votre très sympathique e-mail.

Notre amitié va toujours vers des personnes sympathiques et particulièrement

vers le peuple Australien qui a payé très

cher en hommes pour nous défendre lors de la grande Guerre.

Vous pouvez réserver bien sur dans notre B&B, par contre faites le plus

rapidement possible.

Nous espérons que Eli a repris des couleurs et que nous vous reverrons en

pleine forme.

Nous vous réserverons naturellement le même accueil.

Isabelle, Jean-Claude

Yahoo Babel Fish:

Hello in love ones. In French Thank you for your very sympathetic nerve e-mail. Our friendship always goes worms of the people sympathetic nerves and particularly towards the Australien people which paid very expensive as men to defend us at the time of the Great War. You can reserve of course in our B& B, on the other hand made as soon as possible. We hope that Eli took again colors and that we will re-examine you in full form. We will reserve the same reception naturally to you.

Google Translate:

Hello lovers. 

In French 

Thank you for your very nice e-mail. 

Our friendship will always friendly to people and especially 

to the Australian people who paid very 

expensive men to defend us during the Great War. 

You can book well in our B & B, made against the 

quickly as possible. 

We hope that Eli has taken the colors and that we meet again in 

form. 

We give you the same natural host.

Listening to: Dappled Cities 'The Price' (Download Free here)

Some random things I think of when I think about Eli:

• Eli is unusual and likes unusual things and yet when I tell her about the most mundane crap that I’m currently interested in she gives it her full attention and makes me feel ok about it. - This in turn reminds me that celebrations of life can be found almost anywhere and this I believe is key to how she lives. She loves things big and small, significant and passing alike; Eli’s passion for knowledge reminds me of what having an open mind can do.

• When I look at Eli I see the primal joy of living refracting off of her like a crazy fantastic rainbow. 

• Eli drinks water funny and it makes me happy.

• Eli smells like the future.

•  Eli laughs like a lemon might laugh if you gave it a little face or crossed it with a pixie (assuming you could find one of course. Eli would probably help you look), her laughter reduces me to childish exuberance.

• Eli’s way of being reminds me that innocence is neither contingent on naivety nor synonymous with weakness.

• Eli is a fem-fantastic warrior-poet and I love and admire her. It has been both an inspiration and a pleasure to know her and I am grateful for every day of it ….I sincerely hope to know her for many many years to come
  

French Bed & Breakfast for ANZAC Day

Eli and I were fortunate enough to be in France for ANZAC Day. We attended the Dawn Service at Villers Bretonneux.  

We discovered a wonderful bed and breakfast called A La Ferme 

"A Farm" I think in english...anyone? ;-) 

It's in a beautiful little village Bayonvillers about 8km east of Villers Bretonneux

Anyway this is a shameless plug for them because the owners Jean-Claude & Isabelle are wonderfully nice people and richly deserve success. They went out of their way time and again to help us. And made us feel welcome and at home with their warmth and hospitality. The rooms are lovely. Jean-Claude makes the best omelet I've ever tasted with farm fresh eggs sourced from their own chickens. They also provide mouth-watering bread, cheese and butter. Isabelle's homemade jams and marmalades are pure gastronomic genius. Isabelle gave us a whole jar of Strawberry & Rhubarb jam. Would have to be close to the best jam I've ever had in my life! Anyway I'd have no hesitation in recommending them to anyone. Especially if you are planning on traveling to the Picardy/Somme region for ANZAC Day (when accommodation can be hard to find) or visiting  WWI sites. Tell them Den and Eli sent you and experience the love!

"Isabelle (she speaks English) and Jean-Claude welcome you in their lovely farm, in Bayonvillers (Somme, France)."

http://www.a-laferme.fr/eng/

Old Banner Quotes 1.

"If you never get knocked out, then you ain't fighting the right people" - Matt Hughes

About me then

January - December 2009

I’m on the road finally after saving for about two years. I'm throwing my cards in the air, my dice on the ground, my hat in the ring... I has done all the dumb things innit .

These sort of things I hope to explore...

Ditches Envision

ditches envision,

the futures not set,

buy me a diamond,

so that i might rest.

Gay Spiderman Dance

This is a video clip from the now defunct AIF Class of Oct 2007 blog. We'd had a couple of champers because we'd just graduated.
I thought I'd save this from cybertrash by posting it on Dendonedid. It's good for a laugh still :-) Thanks to Andrew W, AIF Fitness Team Captain & PT extraordinaire for posting this clip originally. I have also included a clip from the same day of a young guy who really can dance.

"This is why you won the Energiser Award Denny! :)

Keep on Rockin' Den,

Can Do Andrew (15/10/07)"

~~~

Adonis! Break it down B-Boy!

Listening To: Cut Copy, The presets, Grafton Primary, Pnau.

Harden The F#ck Up Australia: Chopper & Den

Here are a couple of belated pics for my readers, including my favourite: me and Uncle Chop Chop (AKA Heath Franklin) after a Melbourne performance of his show "Harden the F*^k Up
Australia!" I meant to post these last spring...true story...and I have no excuse.
Ok so better late than never right? Consider this some blogtastic repayment for times lost, punters! ;-)



Listening to: Joy Division, Faker, Sigur Ros

Large Hadron Al-Qaeda

Yesterday at work Timee came up to me and with a look of consternation on his face and said "Den what's going on with all this Large Hadron Al-Qaeda stuff? Why are they trying to kill us?!

The Foodies

G'day,

I’ve been away ages huh? Maybe I’ll just start every Dendonedid blog now with a paragraph apologizing for my absence… for “Times being what they are”

- “What are they?”

- “Mercurial” *

Anyway reason I’m back is to regale you with more tales from retail:

I thought it was just selling liquor that would fill me with disappointment and dread…of sorrow for my fellow man and the repetitive scenes of wasted potential…of wasted lives. Now whilst this tale of grocery shopping gone wrong may not on the surface seem as bad as a boozey life…it's getting on towards a tragedy and visions of shopping malls, hospital halls, broken families, wheezing while walking, sweating whilst eating and of early graves and

Mother & young son go shopping in a mini mart 3pm 9/8/08

And in six minutes they’ve filled their trolley with:

H/fresh 100% apple juice 2ltrs. (That’s 100% “juice” not 100% apples)

Salted Cashews 150g

Mars Bar Classic Funsize 264g

Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate 235g block

Peters Ice-cream Old English Toffee 2ltrs

Smiths Salt & Vinegar chips 175g

Smiths BBQ chips 175g

2 packets - Tim Tams ‘double coated’ choc biscuits 200g

2 packets - Garlic bread 200g

2 Bottles of Lemonade 2ltr

Pascal Marshmallows 250g

Glengarry Shortbread biscuits 200g

Chicken Crimpy shapes biscuits 200g

Kraft Light Philly Cheese Sweet Chilli dip 250g

2 tubs - Copperpot double garlic & capsicum dip 170g

Salted Peanuts 170g

Nabisco Potato flavoured shapes biscuits 175g

$75 worth! They seem like nice people, really they do, the boy looks just like his mum he has a nice ruddy happy face, but also like his mum he’s getting incredibly fat. He’s about 11 years old. I don’t feel good about this negativistic grumble, but what am I gonna say? Nary a fruit or vegetable in sight, And lo though you say “Hey Den it might be shopping for a children’s party” Yeah it might’ve been but it doesn’t really matter because they shop like this all the time. Is this what the Corporation wants? I think it is. You see nobody is holding a gun to their heads right? Relentlessly encouraging people to eat this food isn’t like forcing them is it? Is it?

*Apologies to Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead

Listening to: Playlist of - Baseball, mclsuky, Art brut, Shooting At Unarmed Men and Future Of The Left.

Supermarket Encounters

One evening recently I was standing in the supermarket checkout queue waiting for my turn to be served. I was fourth in line and trying to keep my head down a little, as I had seen a former classmate from the AIF, “K” and I didn’t feel like talking to her at that moment. You know when you’re out and about and your busy and or tired and just want to get on and do what your trying to do, but you see someone you know, maybe an old co-worker or a friend of a friend and you know you probably should just take the time to say hello for a moment…it’d probably only take a minute or two, but for whatever reason you really don’t feel like it, so you do the whole no-look or look away and concentrating on something else. Your avoiding potential eye lines… maybe they won’t see me and then we can just mutually go about our business… In this case, I was tired and I just wanted to get home and make some dinner, but there’s more you see, because towards the end of the AIF course K stopped showing up to the classes. Everyone wondered where she’d got to, because the course was quite intensive and demanding and she’d already made it most of the way through when she started being absent. In the final fortnight of the course, another one of my classmates “Adonis”, on his way into the building, had seen K being dropped of by her boyfriend. It was like a scene from a movie. He heard her boyfriend say ‘Have a good class’ and then watched as she walked towards the course building, only to turn away and head in the opposite direction when her boyfriend had driven away. Adonis tried to wave her over, but she just gave him a cheeky smile and turned heel and headed somewhere else. “Have a good class!” So this was a further layer of complexity that I now sort to avoid, as it was clearly her boyfriend doing some shopping with her, and I figured she might just as likely wish to avoid a conversation with me that might go potentially something like “Hi Denny”, “Hi K, how are you?” “Did you end up passing your certificates?” “Yes, what happened to you? I didn’t see you in the last couple of weeks of the course…” etc etc… So it was an overly complex social scenario that lead me to my position four people back in the checkout queue trying not to look anywhere near my left where three aisles across K and her boyfriend were going through a remarkably slow checkout process. I now became aware of two men at the head of my queue chatting away in a friendly and cheerful manner. I recognized one of them from my childhood neighborhood. A good guy called Ben. So here I go again, in a situation where I probably should say hello, but I don’t really feel up to it, and I’m trying to keep a low profile already….maybe its just the existing state of mind making me feel like this, but I decide to keep my head down anyway and pretend to not notice him…he might not recognize me anyway. I feel really bad about this one. Much worse than avoiding K. I mean I hardly know her, but this guy was a real character from my childhood. He married his neigbourhood sweetheart “V” another nice character from that era and I could clearly see him clutching a beautiful little blond girl of about 4 or 5 who I presumed was there daughter. So I’m keeping my head down, trying not to be seen…by anyone… and fighting the rising sense of guilt that I’m feeling about Ben…sheesh den you know how it is…I don’t want to be rude, but its inconvenient…the supermarket is really busy and I’m tired and hungry and its getting late…yaddayaddayadda but its all BS really and I’m losing because the voice for the affirmative is drilling me and I know I should just let him see me and see if he recognizes or acknowledges me and greet him warmly if he does and ignore the fact that all these strangers standing around will be listing in as we wax the lyrical about how long its been “Its been over 15 years…you look great…you too…” But I don’t. Head down, don’t look left, don’t look forward…minding the business of one’s toes. Ben finishes his conversation and his checkout. He bids farewell to the other chap he’s been chatting with and bustles out of the supermarket. Well at least that’s one all round awkward situation resolved. Just as I’ve thought this a woman from the adjacent aisle leans over and taps the woman in front of me on the shoulder. “Excuse me is that your bank card on the ground there” She asks as she points down near our feet. The woman in front of me picks it up and says “nope, it’s not my card” She turns to me and asks if it’s mine. I already know its Ben’s before I’ve even looked. I say “Does it say Ben on it?” We both read the name Benjamin on it. She assumes its mine and hands it to me. I explain that it was that guy who’d left a minute ago. We look out of the supermarket, and up the mall I spot Ben leaving via the far exit and disappearing around the corner. I chuckle at the situation. I’m the only one who knows what he looks like…I’ve got his bank card….I excuse myself from the queue and run after him. I catch sight of him crossing the carpark. “Ben!” I say it as if it hadn’t been nearly 20 years since we’d last spoke. The fog of weirdness descends, but he turns and seems to recognize me immediately. He’s nonchalant and smiles warmly perhaps searching for my name as the years melt away. “You dropped your card in the supermarket” I say as I hand it to him. He takes it and we shake hands. I’m filled with a genuine nostalgic sense of warmth. I’m a fool sometimes…I can’t believe I considered not acknowledging him or saying hello…awkward and inconvenient or not. It is now a genuinely happy moment. He introduces me to his young daughter bundled up in his arms with the groceries. I recognize V in her facial features immediately and I tell him so. He seems pleased about this and tells me about his other child who apparently looks like him. I tell him I’d love to catch up for a beer. I hope we do. A warm late summer’s evening glow, the distinctly clean and fragrant west coast evening air and idiot-me saved from myself, and Benjamin casualling across the carpark having not lost his bank card in the supermarket…Benjamin who we used to call ‘Ronnie’ because he lived in The White House… What a great little situation made of beautiful little things.

Den's Top Ten Films 2007

I managed to get to 22 films this year. I saw 300 and Control twice.

Oddest thing I saw was an obscure 16mm 1975 drug culture film “Pure Shit” although it was known at the time as Pure S. It wasn’t particularly good, although it was interesting. I was a bit disappointed there weren’t more street shots of inner city 70’s Melbourne. The majority of street shots were at night and streaming from car windows. There was one nice moment where some of the characters after breaking into a chemist run into Edinburgh Gardens in Nth Fitzroy and hide inside the rotunda. (Rotunda: See SpiderBaits “Run” video clip)

1. Pans Labyrinth

2. Control

3. Blood Diamond

4. Atonement

5. This Is England

6. Death Proof

7. Transformers

8. The Good Shepherd

9. The US VS John Lennon

10. 300

In between days

Of late Ive had few of my peeps tell me that they have been surfing my blog regularly to see if I've added anything new. Mostly what they express is in disappointed tones, as obviously I am a fairly erratic poster. Sorry to all who'd like to see more regular updates, but I never wanted this to be like an online diary. Full of day to day activities and trivialities...not that i don't enjoy a triviality or two. I guess i have been curtailed somewhat by my thematic desires for this blog, which coming to think on it now, it would be hard for me to define for anyone what exactly those were. What is blog worthy to Den? Well surely some of my content covers that, but i guess its a bit random and sometimes things that i think might interest some of my readers, I'm not confident would be appropriate reading for others ;-) Perhaps i need a members only section preambled with "Beyond here scant tales of dendonedid debauchery may await ->"
So having rambled to here i will string together a few journal like thoughts on the last few weeks as a kind of concessional effort for those of whom my blogging inconsistency has disappointed.

I went in to my boxing gym a few weeks ago, i hadn't been in for 3 or 4 weeks due to work and study load, and the gym was full of flowers. I went to the sign in desk and commented to one of the trainers "Well thats a lot of flowers..." His expression drained from his face and he said "Oh...you haven't heard yet" He took me aside and told me that one of the main identities of the gym, senior trainer and organiser 'Megan' had recently passed away. She was 29 years old. I wanted to walk out of the gym and go home. It was so shocking. This old school boxing gym space was very much her space. Hers and her brilliant partner Robbie's. Robbie is a pro boxer and our senior trainer. Together they formed a tight and supportive atmosphere of a home away from home for the people who came to train with them regularly. Megan was 29 and fit as all-get-out. She had a heart attack. I haven't been able to bring myself to call anyone and find out what the coroner's report has said. It's so strange to see someones photo memorialised on the wall above where you have seen them so often...there she was week in week out supporting you whilst you trained,encouraging, chatting about fitness, cooking and philosophy. We were lucky enough to have them over to my mum's for a BBQ last year...Megan was a good person and I am glad I knew her.

I have been in Melbourne working for Ad Assoc at the Spring Carnival. Its been grand. How good is Melbourne in spring?! If you love big grey cities and hidden bars. Me and AB went for a quick beer in the city on Tuesday night. We were looking for a little hidden bar he knew and ended up finding this very cool little open aired rooftop bar several stories up on Bourke street. Sat out on deck chairs on some astro turf and lorded over the city and a couple of pints. Beeeaauutiful.

Wanna see Den doing his own interpretation of a hyperactive 'gay spider man' dance?
Check out the clip at the blog: AIF Class of Oct 07

...Or dancing like a cockney nut job as Tone put it!

I recently graduated from The Australian Institute of Fitness and am now taking my first steps as a qualified personal trainer and fitness instructor. Will keep y'all posted.

You might also wanna say g'day to me at my facebook site
There doesn't seem to be an actual unique url for my page, so just do a search for denny carr and you should find me.

The Ian Curtis/Joy Division film "Control" is beautiful, visually brilliant, sad, funny and moving. Watch for the astoundingly good playing by the actors playing the part of Joy Division. You might swear you were back in 1979 Manchester or London.

Listening to: Joy Division (what else!)

Base Jumping with Survivor Tom

Recently I had this intensely vivid dream. I was trekking in a strange landscape of forests and hills, but it was subtly different to present day earth, perhaps prehistoric even, with massive stands of large and densely leaved alien looking trees and thick coffee coloured loamy soil underfoot. Through this landscape I was making my way with Tom of Survivor Palau. Tom Westman the NYC fireman winner of Survivor Palau no less! I walked up a steady incline
towards a hill crest which became a large bluff and a dramatic cliff edge. Here the path diverged. To my left was a slow meandering trail that wound its way along a hill line and eventually down onto the valley floor and straight in front of me the path proceeded up to cliff overlooking the valley. I peered over the edge of this enormous drop-off, and some 60-80ft below there was a large green lagoon. The lagoon and its surrounds were very beautiful. The panorama filled me with a sad unnameable longing. I considered the paths. I looked at the lagoon and wondered if I might make the jump. I was distracted by fears of broken limbs and alien crocodiles or big fish that might live in the mysterious jade waters below. I turned to Tom and he came up and joined me on the edge of cliff. He paused there for a beat, gave me little smile and then… took a big step off. He descended through the air feet first like a missile, plummeting into the water below with a spectacular splash and then resurfacing moments later looking up at me with a huge and expectant grin on his face. I think I actually spoke aloud and said something like (Smirking to myself) “Now that’s why Tom’s a million dollar Survivor winner and I’m standing on the edge of this damn cliff wondering what to do” I was wracked by fear…contemplating in awe, inspired by Tom’s example, but knees knocking and mind racing at the possible outcomes… I found myself recalling the sequence in Basketball Diaries when Jim Carroll and his friends were base jumping off a cliff, and one of them had never made the jump and was baulking at the edge…I’m sorry to say that I awoke at this point…before this story could force a conclusion…flash images of free fall, underwater rock and being unconscious and isolated in an alien landscape. So it’s somewhat off a cliffhanger I suppose ;-), but I will say that when I awoke I felt as if I were still there, wiped the fine rain forest mist from my face, but quite honestly, and although there’s the benefit of doubt here, I might’ve been just seconds away from admitting defeat and going the long way around.


Listening to: Devoted Few - counting cars

Bomb Jack Coin

We've got this great little 'Cocktail table' arcade computer game at work that has about 50 games from the 80's on it. Me and Neil and some others have been giving the game Bombjack a bit of a belting. Bombjack is a brilliant little arcade game from 1984 that has stood the test of time surprisingly well.
The pub staff can mark their coins with an X on one side and their initials on the other, so they can get their coins back when the computer game chap comes and cashes out the games. Neil left the pub a few weeks ago to take a job managing a store in Kalgoorlie (about 600km East of Perth), and one day after he hadnt been there very long, he looked down on his till and lo-and-behold there was a shiny dollar coin with my very own "DC" & "X" marked on it! What are the fuckin odds huh?! Crazy! I think he's kept that dollar. Cool huh? :-)

A virtual moment with Den

I got up late today around 10:30, hit snooze on my alarm three times. I always get a bit lethargic in the mornings around this time of the year. I think its the transition into the darker colder season. Some people call it S.A.D and I'm inclined to agree with them...that's what it feels like, so I try remember to go outside and stand in the slim bands of undiluted sunlight that part the outer lips of shadow and kiss me neatly on the forehead. I try and catch some rays, bar-up and get on with it.

I had baked beans and an egg for breakfast. I'm trying to eat less grains and less carbs. Which is very hard, because I love wheetbix and toast. Future folk will probably look back on our era and chuckle about everyone all strung out and jittering. High as a kite on all the GOD DAMN sugar. I wouldn't mind so much except that current research suggests it fucks you up in the head as much as it does in the belly.

After breakfast I read a few pages from A Fighter's Heart which is an intensely interesting book about a writers journey through the various sub-worlds of martial arts. I then sat out on my balcony where the sun was shining. In the warmth of its bathe I daydreamed briefly whilst staring down into a neighbours beautifully composed garden....catching sight of lawn, sunny lawn and childhood memories rolling in. Memories of lunches and optimism, the great unknown world of tantalising possibilities. Memories that intersect the present moment...evoking in me contemplation of my current attititude towards life. Learn to let go, learn to charge up on happiness whenever and wherever you can find it. To Be hungry without being consumed by its ambitions. To Be ambitious without being eaten by the future...To be able to survive drought.

I began reading a few pages of the novel Snow Crash. I am looking for references to the Metaverse because I am preparing to write for an oral presentation that I have to give at Uni this afternoon. My presentation is to be on Virtual Reality, with its central reference being an extract from Virtual Reality called Cyberspace and human nature. I could just leave it at an analysis of the prescribed text, but I cant help but throw in Snow Crash, which is one of my most favourite and seminal books. I was contemplating V.R and the Net and hyperreality when I felt compelled to write this little bit...a desire to share a virtual moment. I'm paying it forward right now, because I'm feeling the love and I'd be happy if you could too.

Bless.

Screen West

G’day,

This is an open question and letter To Whom It May Concern at Screen West.

I refer to the West Australian article from 13/1/2007 that outlines Screenwest’s alleged recent funding rejection of a new Australian feature film that was slated to be set in and around Perth.

I would sincerely like some insight into the machinations of Screenwest and its role in the Australian film industry. If the claims made within this article are true, then I just have to ask why?  If a film with a script that has been “praised by the Australian Writers Guild…” and further lauded by “Buena Vista International” has been “refused funding” what is going on?

I also note that this article claims that in the last 10 years Screenwest has “knocked back” three extremely successful film projects in Shine, Rabbit Proof Fence and Wolf Creek. I’m sure I don’t need to spell out how disconcerting it is for a Western Australian film lover and supporter to be told that WA’s chief funding body has passed on three films that went on to collectively earn more than 70 million AUD internationally and 20 Million AUD domestically.

As a Western Australian who has spent several years living in the Eastern States, I have often encountered the view that WA is a cultural desert. It pains me to imagine that this is in any way true. From my point of view and personal experience there certainly would appear to be an annual exodus of artistic talent from Perth and WA. I sincerely hope that the people involved in Screenwest and other arts funding bodies and indeed the WA State Government at large are as concerned about the cultural health and diversity of WA as I am. 

Yours Sincerely,
Dendonedid

aww c'mon guys

Last Monday night we had four idiots walk into our bottlo and take 4 or 5 bottles of spirits off the shelf and then uber-casual-like stroll out of the exit. One of our guys was in the main coolroom and didnt see a thing, but Joshy caught sight of them as they were on the turn and went right up to them and said to them "Come on guys..." that if they "stopped now" and "put the stuff back" that he wouldnt call the police. Other than attack them in some way there was nothing Joshy could do. They responded by speeding up a little, all confidence, and casualled outta there. No fault on Joshy, because we dont get paid enough to be bouncers and he did real well just to get close up and confront them...anyway when we looked back on the security footage we were all struck by how funny Joshy looked as he reached out to these morons, a study of opposites - "c'mon guys...be reasonable" so here it is...the perfect caption: "aww c'mon guys!"

Triple J Hottest 100

I voted in the Triple J hottest 100! Because I rock and Triple J rocks. Do you rock?

Looking over my ten songs for this year, you might notice I’m sporting a heavy bias towards the more indie acts (That’s a kind of tactical voting…isn’t it Pollbludger? ;-) Certainly if I wanted to vote in a more populist way I would’ve at the very least included the following three songs, which I’m certain will feature large somewhere in the top 20:

Kanye West’s - Touch The Sky, Youth Group’s – Forever Young and Lupe Fiasco’s – Kick Push. They’re good songs, but they don’t need my vote. All three of these songs were or still are getting heavy rotation on big FM radio. Some people might even argue that these types of songs shouldn’t be played on JJJ anymore, too big and too popular in the mainstream…although it occurs to me that its good for JJJ to have some “big hits” and good for smaller less known acts that they be heard in the mix with big platinum unit shifters such as Kanye.

Anyway… so I probably won’t have a single song I voted for in the Hottest 100 this year, whereas I had 5 last year! *-)

Dappled Cities Fly - Fire Fire Fire
Deloris - Loup Garou
The Editors - Blood
Faker - Love for Sale
Josh Pyke (Night Hour) - Memories & Dust
Laura Jean - I'm A Rabbit I'm A Fox
Pony Up! - The Truth About Cats & Dogs (Is That They Die)
Red Riders - A.S.P.I.R.I.N.
Subaudible Hum - All For The Caspian
Valentinos - Rain

Top Ten Films 2006

1. Syriana

2. The Prestige

3. Jackass 2

4. Ten Canoes

5. The Departed

6. The Host (Gwoemul)

7. Clerks 2

8. Thank you For Smoking

9. Crude Awakening

10. In The Shadow Of The Palms

──

11. Darkon

12. Seven Swords

13. Shooting Dogs

14. The Great Yokai War (Yôkai daisensô)

15. Overcoming

16. Performance (Special mention)

I had a wonderful year for film going. I saw the most films ive ever seen at cinemas in a year, being 31, of which 14 I saw at the Melbourne International Film Festival. It was also my privilege to briefly work at the utterly superb “rare, cult & foreign” video store The Movie Reel in Northcote. And I attended the Melbourne premiere of Clerks 2 with over three hours of Q&A with Kevin Smith afterwards! Choosing for my list was extremely close this time around and I could have easily done a Top 15 with nothing much between 1 and 15 in terms of how I felt about them. Hence I’ve included 5 alternates and a special mention for Performance, the surprisingly rare 1970 film starring Mick Jagger and James Fox in his last film before an almost decade long sabbatical and alleged breakdown, which was in no small part connected to the psychedelic shenanigans that occurred during the making of Performance. I was very lucky to see a restored print screened at the impressive Australian Centre for the Moving Image (ACME) Cinémathèque in Melbourne. Its an excellent and film and I had to mention it, even though it was filmed way back in 1968.

Stan bin laden - 70K (reprise)

As I promised in the original Free 70K blog, here is a link to the Herald Sun article that illuminates in more detail, the “taskforce” and international search for Melbourne Super-Villain “Stan”

Littlerach

Dendonedid Presents:
Rach, Rach Rach Little Rach...ive not mentioned her enough on this here blog. When i first met her i was told she was the door-bitch. She was the best god damn door bitch a beautiful little punkrockroom could have. Rach rocked...and rocks and knows all about rock but yet little about geology...but that doesnt even begin to scratch at the surface of the femme-enigma that is lil Rach. Talk to her about rock. Talk to her about punk...about punk attitude...about how it can save your life. Like it saved mine!

RACH RACH RACH RACH RACH LilRach!

Go and talk to her via the seminal Mess+Noise neighbourhood

Quickly before she makes me take this down ;->









Listening to: Placebo - running up that hill

Island That Time Forgot

Here’s a quick reminder to check out Adam Ford’s inspired Monkey Punch Dinosaur site.
Whilst using this plug as an opportunity to show off a great pic of mine that didn’t make the site because of the strict “punching” requirements. As I emailed Adam
“I don't suppose it would help if I explained that in MMA-pro-fighting terms that the monkey has assumed a position that is called ‘the mount’ (true story;-) and is pursuing a side to
side punching tactic known as ‘ground and pound’
...heheeheh except its not working and he's gonna get eaten…shhh”


...go on what are you waiting for?! Make one of your own and send it in! Go to it!

PS- Island That Time Forgot - Special thanks to Rich,Karen and Ollie for production, set design, casting and on site catering!

Little Grey Car

Last week I completed a Philosophy short course at CAE. The course was superbly taught by a gentleman named Sam Gates. “Without chalk-and-talk or lectures students must engage with the issues themselves, evaluating philosophically important arguments while advancing their own opinions” Mr Gates had an engaging style that brought forward classic modes of thought, that could be simultaneously examined and applied within the context of day-to-day & modern life situations. There are several philosophy short courses being taught by Sam Gates at CAE Melbourne and if you get the opportunity I highly recommend signing up for one of them.

A couple of weeks into the course I told the class a story about when I was 5 years old and I had this little grey Matchbox car that I was using in an experiment that involved digging a small hole and then burying the car and then waiting a while and then digging it up again to see if it was still there. I did this several times and each time, surprise surprise, the car was still there (hey I was 5 all right!) finally however I dug the hole and the car was not there. I frantically dug around the area, searched through the small piles of sand that I had excavated, dug through, pushed the sand around, went away, came back, dug and searched and pushed sand around, but the car was gone…gone and never to be seen again. It was a big moment for me, and I have often thought of it since. Why’d I tell this story? I think I told it because the class was discussing notions of certainty, which would make sense since the course was subtitled Quest for Certainty
At the end of my final class a fellow student named Viki (spelling?) approached me and lifted up my hand. She put her hand over mine smiling sagely as she placed something in it. I looked down and it was a little grey car. She explained to me how she and her family had discussed my story and had thought it would be an appropriate gesture to find a little grey car of about the right historical age and present it to me as a gift. Furthermore Viki explained to me how the family had meditated on the object, empowering it with positive energy that I could take with me and use as inspiration in my coming university adult entry exam. They put a lot of thought into which little car they felt was the right one to get for me, even, as Vicki told me, having a little argument about
Needless to say I was floored. It was such an unexpected and kind gesture. I was very much moved. I Felt like I’d received some kind of class merit or peers award. So I’d like to thank Viki and her family, her kids Isabel and Orion and her husband (afraid I can’t recall his name), for their thoughtful gesture.
I will be taking the little grey car into the STAT exam with me.

“In the abstract world…unalterable truths, before this world I knew all forms and when I was born into this world, (what I did) what I do is that I recognize these forms that I have already known…before this world when I knew all forms…” – Fragment from my
in-class notes. (From a Plato dialogue I think. I include it as it ran down in my notes, because a lot was happening at that moment and how it fell onto my page is in its own way quite beautiful and hints at the larger idea in a poetic light. Don’t you think? ;-)

Listening to: Laura Jean - I'm a rabbit I'm a fox

FREE 70K

For those Melbournians or anyone familiar with the prolific (often difficult access and high altitude) graffiti of Stan & Bonez and the rest of the 70K crew, who have recently been the subject of an international taskforce, with most members having been arrested and facing prison…I saw this on the weekend Clifton Hill Station & Hoddle streets and thought it worth a mention. Looks like the Free 70K campaign has begun!
Still trying to find an online link to the most recent Herald Sun article dated 01/09/06.
here is a link that mirrors a previous article from The Sun earlier in the year.

Monkey Punch Dinosaur

G’day g’day! I’m very sorry dear visitors that I have been such a force of absence these past months. The sad truth is that during this time I have composed several blogs in my head, but have not got around to posting them. But anyhoo I’m back now and here’s why:

I have an entry at the fantastic Monkey Punch Dinosaur website so please check it out.

…and stay tuned for some retrospective blogs in the coming weeks.

Peace on yer.


Listening to: Chinese Rocks – the Ramones version and the Heartbreakers one…back2back double play roCK!