Thursday, December 15, 2005

Politics makes my spelling and grammar bad. It's called passion.

Soundtrack: Louis XIV / Pledge of Allegiance

Yeah yeah, so I'm with y'all with the anger and the shame and the rah rah. But I gots a couple of sticking points that I need to rah-rah-release. For posterity, you know? I'd like my kid Bird* to read this blog and I'd like them to know that I was always honest and that expressing yourself is a good thing, no matter what.

*Bird is fictional,ok?

The thing is with all of us righteous brothers throwing up our arms in disgust and blogging well thought out arguments and well meaning parody is that...well, I still can't help but think that we are being incredibly AUSTRALIAN about the whole thing. And by Australian I mean...apathethic.

*raises gloves*

This germ started to ferment within my brain yesterday when I kept reading articles and forum threads about how everyone is ASHAMED to be Australian and how this country isn't WHAT IT USED TO BE and similar bullshit. Well, yar...we're right, it's not what it used to be...thing is, we're not fucking children anymore and these halcyon days that everyone keeps refering to were years ago when we had absolutely no fucking control over our country. It's nice to remember Gough and Bob and Paul, but really, they were just figures of authority to us when we were too young to actually make a difference.

That funny man drunk the beer and made public holiday! LABOR RULES!


What these meathead fucks have started is disgusting and deplorable and I really can't see it just fading away and being remembered as "that weekend the skegs went nuts"...I see it as a real catalyst for some bad shit to start happening...unless.


We start doing more than just surfing the net for information about it to use on our blogs or for dinner party conversation, and start actually FORCING some motherfucking change somewhere it counts.

I will be attending the Anti Race Riot Protest tomorrow, but sadly, like the Anti War Protest and the IR Reform Protest, I really have no fucking faith in the voice of the people anymore. Not when we have elected a government that has control over both houses and the power to fucking inflict upon us any thing they fucking well feel like.


There is really only a long term solution as far as I can see, and that is to create over the next two and a half years, some sort of viable opposition to the current government. Labor are fucked, they speak with the fucking aggression of a newly born kitten and have as much air time on TV as The Motherfucking Sopranos. Grrr.

We need to force change in the Labor Party and we need to do it sooner rather than later. We need to remind Australia that a social conscience is more important than a budget surplus, a happy boss or a stinking cricket game. We need to write to these cunts, FORCE them into action, force them to depose the meek sack of poofy potatoes that currently masquerades as an alternative Prime Minister and force them to show Australia that what we need now more than anything is not a set of rules that erodes at our civil liberties, that sparks mistrust between minority groups and inflames the religious sensibilites of every single fucking person, but LEADERSHIP. We need leadership. We need someone who bashes their fist on the lecturn, who has the conviction to speak their mind, the mental capacity to back it up and the courage to face us. To face ME. I want to follow a leader, I want to follow a leader who stands up for themselves, who doesn't play politics.

Difficult, nigh on impossible to find. I understand this. But the way it stands, we're facing at least another six years of this shit and that I cannot stand for.

I am not ashamed to be Australian, I love where I live, I love the people, the pubs (hehe)...the collective intelligence and passion of everyone I come into contact with. But to be honest, I can see why the "average" fuck hasn't voted for Labor these past few elections. Because Labor does not fucking EXIST. The opposition does not fucking EXIST.

Well, there's only one way to change that.

Monday, December 12, 2005



Why my Drug Dealer Freaks Me Out...

My drug dealer really is the nicest Drug Dealer in the world. He has ridden his bicycle 30km in the pouring rain just to give me one pill at 7 in the morning without me having to pay. And other stuff...But still, we all have our dark side...

Recently I texted him something about fixing him up some cash I owed him.

This is the response...his spelling...

Thanks it would help, but you are much loved on this side of the coin my friend, and if I was a chic for a day I'd be one of those sexysuicide dominatrix type chics, i'd be in pvc high shiny boots, a very tight leather corset with a very purple ribbon pulling it together just enough to squash my very tanned puppies up almost to the point that their popping out - you can just see my areolas are exposed but as you look down at my crotch you notice a very large very life like black vainy strap on cock and you are in my motel room after you meet me backstage at the after party for the queens of the stone age (that were playing to a private gig at a party for shock records) and after a lot of substance abuse and jager i take you back to my hote room and tie your arms and legs face down on the bed and with that black cock (which you might not have noticed at the party under my dress because it was duck taped to my leg and as i remove the tape the strap on comes alive sticking out like a big black pudding and as i splash virgin olive oil all over your back and cheeks i tell you it's scented oils but i'd run out in the first two hours of having to be in the the body of a fucking horny slut kitten. And you don't know any of this because your down in the pillow and you squeal when i touch you on your wet date and you scream when you feel your ass dylate as this huge oiled up strap on gets you by surprise but after a few slow jabs you warm to it and start rearing back, you kept this up till you had the whole lot up your ass you came and you paid me and said you'd call me again when you were in town.

Fucking Jesus Christ...How about those riots then hey????
For someone who continually preaches the Power of Love, I'm filled with a lot of anger and hate. It's genesis is a mystery to me, crazy childhood, life of pain, rah rah rasputin...I don't particularly understand it, but I know it exists and I know the destructive power it holds.

Maybe it's a yin and yang thing, maybe one cannot exist without the other.

Or maybe, everyone has it in them and like all other facets of my personality, I just wear it on the outside for all to see. Maybe to me anger is a release, like dancing or jerking off.

But the thing is, anger is just far too destructive a force to leave unchecked, and anger without a purpose, blind spiteful rage is just destruction for destruction's sake, or Emotion Gone Wild riding a bus topless around California...or some other weird anology...


A lot of things make me angry, a lot of things trigger my heart into morphing black and molten lava to wash over my soul and paint fire in my eyes and a torrential outpouring of feeling like a monsoon, drenching anyone who stands near me.

Note to self, pack an umbrella, and a good book.

It's easy for people like you and me, literate, reasonably informed citizens to look down our nose at violent mobs with a Cyclops like mentality, one eyed and spite ridden, clubbing all in their path with a fist full of rhetoric, easy for us to tsk tsk over our morning coffee and shake our heads in disgust at the world around us...

But but but...

It's harder for me to face what is inside me. For I too have a black soul sometimes, and I too verbally pummel and blindly rage against false injustice when out of control. I too am guilty of feelings of hopelessness and inequality and fear and sadness and fuck fucking EVERYTHING.

I just tend to be on my own a lot, which makes it a safer world for you. Heh.

It has hurt and frightened and disgusted me, the events that have taken place over the last few days. But in an ironic twist in my own microcosm, it has come at a time when I too must examine feelings of anger within myself and try to understand.

Stupid Mars, planet of rage.

I read a bumper sticker on my walk home this morning. It said, There is no road to peace, peace is the road. And sometimes the Hippies have a point. Rather than look at a goal, a future where things will be different,'s a lot nicer to just make that the NOW.

Nicer but fucking hard.

I know some people who seem so perfect. Beautiful, outgoing, nice, loving, smart, calm CUNTS, heh, I mean people...And I envy them their serenity. But then, so much of me is tied up in blind passion, so much of the good parts of me comes from blind Italian-Irish passion that to seperate myself from any one part of it seems like an impossible amputation.

But watching the riots and the mob and seeing photos of drunk men spitting venomous vitriole...let's just say...I got scared. I got scared that I was capable of looking like that, though driven by different forces.

Anger really frightens me. The anger within me really frightens me. Trust me when I say I have seen more than my fair share of it while growing up, and I am afraid that I may never control it. So I'll write about it, and work on it, and try not to lapse. AGAIN. AGAIN. AGAIN.

Keep breathing. Keep thinking of words and music and art and light and love and the country and food and Love and friends and it's all ok, it's all ok.

And I read in the paper an article about the riots, and the writer was saddened by the look of SURRENDER in those that were being bashed, and he wrote that there is no greater victory over a mob than a look of dignity.

And I think he was right. And I think dignity is the mortal enemy of anger. And I think it is not only a beautiful construct, but it is a beautiful word.


*keeps walking road of fucking life*

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Dana International

Soundtrack: Coldcut / Everything is under control

When someone says they are behind you and there to catch you if you fall back, do you trust them? How about if, like the boy who cried wolf, they have let you fall before, but reassure you that THIS time, they will catch you. If you mistrust them, is it you who is the loser in this situation? Should you retain your naive belief in others, in the world no matter what happens?

This is where I am at. I have read and reread old posts, posts filled with positivity and belief, posts urging myself and anyone who will listen to look life in the eye and smile. To let it all fall at your feet, that you may flick your lit cigarette into it and watch all the shit just burn baby burn.

I've lied to you. I'm not as independent as I try to be. I know I should be, but sometimes...sometimes I like knowing there is someone behind me to catch me should I fall.

Fuck me dead, I hate when things are not in my sphere of influence, when I have no control over what goes on around me, when all I am is a passive observer, a peeping tom while my life is being fucked in the other room.

That's the negative part.


Here's the advice I give to myself.


What DO you have control over? When are you most happy?


No, not THAT. I mean, really happy.

When I'm making music.

So, focus on that. All this bullshit, all this angst, all this Woe is Me crap...drown it in riffs, scream it in lyrics, take these words you write and laser guide the fuck out of them into 9 damn songs. Stand on stage and just let it all out. Close the fucking world out, and pour that fucking soul all over the faces of those who stand before you. You've been doing it here online anyway. Oh and...


Do it with a gigantic fucking grin on your face. And distortion. Lots of distortion. And show the world just how little you fucking care for its crap. Draw blood from your hand like you did ten years ago. Feel the REAL adrenalin feed you strength. And don't ever fucking stop believing that what you feel is right. And okay.

As for others...they have their own life, their own shit, their own crap. And if you don't give them something to be happy about, something to rock out to, something to take them away from their pain, if only for an hour...then what the fuck are you even in this life for? Mediocrity? I think fucking not my friend. Mediocrity and you,'ve had some strange bedfellows, but I don't think even you would stoop THAT low.



The morning I waved goodbye to my Mum from the back window of a Greyhound Coach, her last words were ringing in my ears. And they are now. Again. Louder and louder. And to think, for the last five years I have done nothing about them, I've ignored them, been distracted by working and relationships and partying...and my life has been off kilter ever since.

She gave me my destiny, she asked me one simple fucking favour. Looked me in the eye and in a rare moment of clarity, pleaded with me...

Matty. Don't EVER stop making music, no matter what ANYONE says, no matter how much life gets in the way. Music is our soul and it transcends all of THIS.

So now we're coming. This is not dream, a whim. This is what has always been there. Sleeping beside, inside me. Yesterday we picked up where we had left off, yesterday the euphoria returned, the catharsis of release, real release and this storm outside is OURS. This tight dripping fucking weather, this animal heat. This is OURS.

And if I don't believe that, then who the fuck will.

Time to own. Time to own everything.

Cocky motherfucker huh...

Thursday, November 24, 2005

The Call of the Wild

Soundtrack: Kings of Leon / The Bucket

Lately I have been looking inward.

Imaginary audience: Ha.


All year I have been looking inward.

How's that?

Imaginary audience: BETTER. MORE CORRECTER. NOW MOVE ON...

I have been looking inward. And the thing I have learned from looking inward is, there is no Truth. Truth is a river, flowing down from the mountain of my life, wisdom melting into an everchanging rapid until at the delta, it merges with everyone else's truth, forming a gigantic ocean of subjective realities.

Imaginary audience: Dude, get off the crack...

Okey. Well, how about I feel like a levee is breaking inside. I feel like, instead of stubbornly following my stream of conscious and holding onto my Truth, well today I feel like finding out about other's Truths, about yours. All I have ever experienced is my own brain, my own heart, my own soul and well, don't you get fucking bored (lonely?) with only yourself for company in there? I don't mean to say that I or you don't have our companions, our soul mates our best friends, I just mean even with those can ever really get in, no-one can ever really experience another's Truth.

Imaginary audience: Have you ever read Isaac Asimov's Foundation series? I think it's in the fourth book that the characters come across a planet known as Gaia. And on Gaia there is but one collective conscious, and everyone on the planet is a part of that, and everyone experiences everyone else's reality...Is that what you want?

I don't know. Does that then cancel out Individuality as a construct? I mean, when is 'being myself" actually closing myself off to new experiences, when does "trusting what I believe in" mean I'm not listening anymore to what someone is saying...How do I switch off the part of me that says I know best? I don't know best. I'm really interested in learning more, experiencing more, opening myself up to EVERYTHING this life has to offer, except, sometimes my Id-Ego doesn't let me. Does that ever happen to you?

Imaginary audience: Sorry what? I was dozing off there for a minute...

Sigh. I'm trying to become an empty vessel. Without the incense and Orange robes. I'm trying to become a sponge of knowledge and experience, I'm trying to open myself up completely and understand that there is so much more to this universe than what I experience. But it seems like to do that, I will have to evolve not over a million years, but instantly. Now. I will have to jump a few stages and become some sort of super human with all crazy kookoo mind control powers...

Imaginary audience: You mean like Scott Baio in the movie Zapped? I LOVE THAT MOVIE!

No, although I loved that movie too...I mean mind control over MYSELF, not others. Although having the ability to make College Girls instantly topless DOES have its appeal. Look, I'm just rambling okay? I just wanted you to know where I was at. Because, although we talk a lot and although I feel we're close, sometimes I still get the feeling that there is a chasm between us and I wanted to build a bridge, and to walk across it and hug you. Let you see inside me, if but for a moment. Lately, I haven't let many people in, but I feel I can trust you. And you know what? That's kind of exciting and scary at the same time. Like being naked in front of someone for the first time.

Imaginary audience: *strips* I love you. Your secrets are safe with me. I am honoured that you would open up to me like that, I wish I could do the same thing.

That's okay, I'm not asking anything of you. Besides, what you just wrote was really beautiful. Thankyou.

Imaginary audience: Thankyou. Oh and hey?


Imaginary audience: Do you think I look good in the nude?

Breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking. Now let's hold hands on this bridge and howl like the motherfucking Lone Wolves that we are.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Thing I just found out...

happened at George's Bachelor Party on Saturday Night.

*I broke my riding crop whipping Celebrity Dave with it. Repeatedly. Hard.

*I made a speech that was pretty much all about divorce.

*A hairy fisherman slept in my bed.

*George, "loves me man, he loves me, loves me, I fucking love you man, I love you...."

*Oh right, he also reads my blog.

*It is not a good idea to shake up a can of beer and spray it all over the decks which WE JUST SET UP IN OUR HOUSE.

*It is possible to have sex so good that it makes poo come out.

I really should leave it on that note.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Counting the Beat

Soundtrack: ZZ Top / Sharp Dressed Man

Let's pretend that you are going to a gigantic Sex Exposition.


What do you wear? How do you convey both raw, unbridled sexuality and deep sophistication?

I've narrowed it down a little. Perhaps I could have your opinion?

Choice #1 Party hat and a rohypnol face*

Party done weft me awww awone.

"Here kid, have some amyll"

*The check shirt will come off in the taxi, not to worry.






Tarzan Costume*

Someone say Swingers Party?

*I'm seriously considering this one, it is truly... fucking genius.



Dressing as the character from that old Commodore 64 Video Game PITFALL. Yeah...nothing says I fuck like a barrel of nympho monkeys like dressing up as a video game cowboy adventurer. I mean, THAT is impressive, not only do I lurk around the internerd looking for Swingers Parties, but in my spare time I like to sit on my couch and play video games.

It's funny 'cause it's true.



Sorry that one just sorta snuck in...



Oh dear lord...

Someone please kill me. I am going to a swingers party dressed as a gigantic snagglepuss with a tiny head, accompanied by a tracksuit pant wearing bee with sunglasses on holding a daisy.

Note our high class footwear.


I'll let you know wha' happen.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together

This is the soundtrack:

Words are flying out like
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow waves of joy
are drifting through my open mind
Possessing and caressing me

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Images of broken light which
dance before me like a million eyes
That call me on and on across the universe
Thoughts meander like a
restless wind inside a letter box
they tumble blindly as
they make their way across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Sounds of laughter shades of life
are ringing through my open ears
exciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which
shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva

The dream was interesting. I was either tiny and the toaster was your average toaster, or otherwise it was a gigantic toaster. No matter, for I found myself inside it, in the electric go-go cage and things were heating up. I remember thinking, should I turn around so I'm done on both sides?
Then, click, bang, and up I went...weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!


My hand woke up first and it was hot. Hot enough to wake me, hot enough for awareness to start blistering slowly up my arm and over my chest and stomach and my crotch. Hot. I tried to open my eyes but my mouth went instead and all I could taste was fire and salt and strangely, Tequila.

I was face down in the sand. First things first. I was face down in the sand and it was hottest underneath where the tiny pieces of glass to be formed heat beads and needles and the warmth, fire, on my back was almost...calming. The sun does this, the sun makes sense. The sand did not.

Mjoijioashdjh, I spat and the sun replied cheerfully. Wake up. Wake up.

Fuck you. Fuck you LifeGiver. I embraced the pain of the crystals below.

Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I heard and fuck...I totally agreed.

Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I heard again, but this time I objected. I am sssshing! You fucking shoosh!





And this time my nose responded, tiny holes pumping smelling salt sea salts inside.

Right. Gotcha.


I am hungover lying on the fucking beach.

I am nude as the day I was born.

I can taste Tequila, but I cannot taste vomit.

I am sunburnt on my back and sand burnt on my front.

The world is a white hot bright light blur.

But here we go...


Behind and to the left. Two girls, maybe seventeen.

Hey! I am seventeen!

This is a flashback. Not a dream.



This is what came to me that morning in thoughts so fast I should consider inventing some sort of Thought Drive Propulsion System for Intergalactic Travel. But not today, that Life will come in a few thousand years. Today came:

There was a party, I started off the life of it, then came the Tequila, I found a washing machine into which I placed:

A bag of oranges, a bottle of tomato sauce, a broom, a bucket of vomit, some piss, a full box of Kellog's Corn Flakes, some milk, some detergent. I switched it on. And laughed and laughed and laughed.

I was ejected from the party. Two girls followed me out. Jane and Anna. We walked 5 minutes to the beach and started making out. First one then the other, then all three, then pants were off and my fingers were inside them both and we laughed as they clumsily kissed each other until I was ready and they kissed me, oh fuck did they, first one then the other, hands and mouth, hands and mouth and one started to cry and the other started to hurl and out it came, her dinner and I felt the same until, lurch, bang, crash.


Now like strobe light.





Being kicked.





I've had, since I started drinking at age 10, so many fucking nights of out of control drunken black haze, I cannot possibly count them all. When I was a teenager, I assumed that was what being drunk meant. Sitting on a beach, illicit carton of beer, smoking cigarettes and falling over, maybe a guitar but more often not, all aiming for that peak. That, yoush fooky know me drink fuck you sleep, end justifying my mean streak. Blackouts were common, everyone had them. Binge drinking was common. Everyone did it.

Through my twenties I started to see that if I could drink all night and not blackout, I was going to have more fun at parties. Parties went all night. I wanted to be there. Last Man Standing, to coin a TV show. I tried, but I was in a Bourbon phase, and bourbon made me nasty. Nasty and drunk and I never made it, except when there were only two of us. For in a two person set, social dynamics don't mean so much, and social dynamics are like dynamite to an aggressive drunk.

So I started taking ecstasy, because that meant, I could stay up all night, drink, and still feel all happy and lovey. When I realised this, I started to take A LOT. So I could keep this feeling going, but also, so I could consistently have a drink in my hand. Win Win!


I've written before about my battle to stop drinking. And I'm not about to do it again, because love you though I do, I don't want words of encouragement because I don't want to publicly fail. And this post isn't really about giving up booze, it's more of a pit stop. An intermission where you think to yourself, hey...I know what I'm doing to my body, I know that my brain is my last asset and still I'm fucking with it, fucking with it BAD, but least I still KNOW what the fuck I'm doing. So there's hope.

In the last few days I've thought about how I could do it. When my fucking life revolves around going out, being out, eating out, djing, living with drinkers, surrounded by drinkers...

And first I got stroppy like, why the fuck do I have to do it? Why can't I drink like everyone else?

Sometimes I can. A lot of the time, I cannot.

So, typical me at a party when I've just joined everyone on the couch,

I get up and follow my nose, and love being alone on a path.

Thanks so much the people who have emailed me. I think it's a really nice thing to do.

Tuesday, November 8, 2005

Tag THIS Honkus

The first time I got tagged I thought, fuck me what the fuck canI tell you that I haven't already splurted all over this page like so much literary jiz? But you know WHAT KRANKI SAYS GOES Y'ALL because he wants to pash me and I want to balance a tray of cocaine on his head at our combined birthday party and walk him around on a lead calling him My Little Seppo (kind of like My Little Pony...but betterer)

1/ Sometimes I get writer's block and just stare at the number 1 for ages.

2/ I once fucked a girl in broad daylight on the roof of a shop above a busy street just because she asked me to prove I was "a bad boy"...I think I've written about that

3/ I hate having to repeat myself.

4/ I have all sorts of fucked up sexual fantasies, including two guys and a girl, but the one time I was actually in that situation, I found it really strange and difficult to "have a hard attack" still, I'm not the sort to give up. Back on the horse...ewwww, I'm not THAT kinky.

5/ I think I may be going to an honest to god Eyes Wide Shut Swingers Party soon. Ok, maybe I am THAT kinky.

6/ In real life there are probably only two people who truly know me inside and out. One of them is my sister. But then, I tell all sorts of truths on the internet for people who don't know me to read. I'm complex.

7/ I want to marry someone who is already married. But don't tell anyone.

8/ I am currently seeking help for a drug addiction. I'm a bit scared about it. Is that too serious? Ok...

9/ Once I had two full time girlfriends for a year and a half. I've probably written about that too, but while I was going out with them both I probably slept with about 8 other people because for some reason girls found me attractive at that time in my life. It has never happened since.

10/ I truly believe that a monogamous relationship is possible. Hahahahahaha.

11/ Because I have no parents, I rely on my own sense of self esteem to keep me going through life. Sometimes this makes it hard for me to concede defeat or admit when I am wrong.

12/ My last name means IDIOT in Japanese. When I first arrived in Japan I had to make a speech in front of 3000 Japanese students. I stood up and said, Hello, My name is Mathew Idiot. Then I bowed and hit my head on the microphone, knocking it off the stage. Best. Opener. Ever.

13/ I hardly read any other blogs. I just come here to write and smoke a ciggie and then go home.

14/ Sometimes I get jealous. I hate it. I try and control it, but it's like a knot in my stomach, a parasite that takes hold of me and spreads its tentacles throughout my body until I'm a quivering mess. In the broad light of day I can look at it objectively and think what an idiot I am, but when it's happening it's REALLY hard to control. I'm currently doing my best to rectify this problem. I think it has a lot to do with being on drugs or drunk.

15/ I like being open. I like the Truth. Though it scares me sometimes having MY truth out there.

16/ Once I met a girl on MSN Messenger. We had a cyber sex affair for a year or so. Then one day she invited me over to her house and we fucked in her lounge room in front of a web cam while another girl watched from a remote location. As soon as it was over, I left and felt really, really strange. But it's a nice story to tell the grand kids.

17/ When I lost my virginity, it was to a girl who had slept with most of my friends. I didn't know diddly. She stripped me bare, laid me back on the bed, took my cock in her hand and asked me, "What do you like?" I didn't know how to reply, so I told her, "lots of tongue" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

18/ I am seriously considering putting the picture of my erect cock back up, just to get more traffic.

19/ I think I may be an exhibitionist, a voyeur, an nymphomaniac and really, really shy all at the same time.

20/ Every single fucking day, I wish my mum was alive, though I'm really, really glad she's not reading my blog.

How's that? I tag The Pony, who I cannot wait to meet.

Monday, November 7, 2005

It's only words

Soundtrack: Polyphonic Spree / Hold Me Now

I'm a hard cunt to know, fo' real.

On any given day I may be the humblest, quietest, most well spoken gentleman you've ever met. And other days, I can tear it all down baby with an oral barb so hurtful you'll either punch me in the face or spit in my eye. (Like my fireman! Rub his helmet and he'll spit in your eye!)

I try...I try and be a laconic genius, easy going y'all, water of a duck's back and shizzle...but sometimes when I think I'm chilling on things, I'm actually STORING them, keeping 'em down, adding to the cauldron inside where shit be really BLACK and even I don't like to look. There are many, many things in there, a lifetime of...stuff. I guess it's why I drink, I guess it's why I don't necessarily like being on my own, though sometimes I sit under a tree on my own and I'm a happy little beaver. Strange days indeed lately.

Whenever I want a break from this blogging caper I find I can't, because I like to write, but then I just get all cryptic so only I understand what the fuck it is I'm writing about. JOURNAL ALERT. GHEY.

I've made this really big choice in the last few days. Wizard style. Thing is, it wasn't until now sitting in front of motherfucking blogger that I realised just how RIGHT it is. Now there are a couple of y'all who might get confused and excited and ain't THAT choice. Soz. But it's big and it's new and it's damn fucking personal, so cryptic I remain, public though this is.

Anyhoo...there's something else I want to blurt, a random thought I had the other night.

I was watching Men in Black 2. Genius that it is not. 'cepting, there is this one small scene and Grumpy guy Tommy Lee, Jones that is, after having his memory erased wonders why every night he finds himself looking up at the stars, dreaming...(of course it is because he was once a member of an elite team of you know, Alien Soldiers or something sexy..)

And I was thinking, I do that almost every night. Under the guise of steeping out for a tabacco hit, I stand / sit in a backyard and just look up and I dream of distance, different worlds, a different life, and in my fragile and warped little mind I wonder about DNA memory and I wonder about the genesis of my soul and I wonder about the shit that gets in, shit that leaves me tied up in knots and angry and lashing out lashing out...and I think of all the times I've sat at a computer and written preachy shit, soul finding shit, life is beautiful shit...and I wonder why sometimes that all disappears inside me and the black shit roars out and talon grips me in the fucking heart.

Told you, journal alert. Ghey.

It ain't the nuts yo.

And I can't shake the murder of my mother. Thought I could. Can't.

And I'm not the greatest boyfriend in the world. Never thought I was. Ain't. Good in bed though apparently.

And I once knew someone who truly lived to help other people, who truly lived to love other people, and is that rare? It's got to be right? Because to tell you the honest to god fucking stripped bare truth, I can't get out of my own head, so I find it really hard to talk to you, or help you, or love you.

But I really want to be a good guy. It's just the fucking balancing act which is hard. The balancing act of maintaining a tough exterior and a heart of gold. I'm not a character in a book, I'm fucking flesh and blood and heart, and sometimes I fall down go boom. And sometimes, though I pretend to be, I'm not tough at all, I'm not smart at all, I'm just a kid like all of you, all of us.

And fuck me, if that ain't the hardest thing to acknowledge for someone who has survived by thinking they were unique.

Squeeze the rant kids, it ain't all that bad. I truly am an optimist, it's just...make some room on the couch, I'm about to join the fucking human race.



Tuesday, November 1, 2005



Tuesday, October 25, 2005


Soundtrack: Ike and Tina Turner / Nutbush City Limits (in an X-Files Style)

Following on from my last "gee the FLOWERS are beautiful and Pollen tastes like Fairy Dust in this wonderful trumpet playing world of ours" post when everything came up B and dinner awaited and so did baited breath because I was DEFINITELY going to have the Ocean Fillet after I ate this AMAZING sesame coated piece of CROCODILE. Yes, crocodile...

Let's play charades!






FUCK. I guess charades doens't really work on the Intersmeg.

Ok, let's play a different game! You can be me and I'll be the restaurant staff...

YOU (actually me...get it?): Hello! Wow! THIS is a beautiful! It's amazing what you've done with the place! And, might I say, these Reader's Digest Condensed Novels make wonderful menus, TOUCHDOWN!

RESTAURANT STAFF ('s only me!): Thankyou you wonderfully dapper young man, now what would you like to order?

YOU...ME...ARGH, this is confusing now...: Well, my fancy culinary friend I will have THIS and THIS...OH MY GOD HOW FUCKING GOOD DOES THIS LOOK! there's just ONE FUCKING THING. WHEN YOU ARE LOOKING ME IN THE EYE AND TELLING ME THAT THERE ARE DEFINITELY NO FREAKING NUTS IN THESE FUCKING DISHES ARE YOU TELLING ME THE TRUTH 100% IRONSIDE STYLE? Because you know...I'd hate to like, DIE and ruin the ambience of your restaurant which you have so obviously spent many painstaking hours creating into such a wonderful visual tappenade!

RESTAURANT STAFF (one of us!): Young man, I can absolutely, positively, guarantee you that there is not even a TRACE of nuts in these WONDERFUL dishes you have PERFECTLY chosen to ingest this warm sultry eve..SAFETY DANCE! YOU AND ME! However don't take my word for it, I shall PERSONALLY GO AND ASK THE CHEF! CHEF??? CHEF CAN YOU HEAR ME?




RESTAURANT STAFF BRINGING DISHES TO TABLE: Here young man, you have selected wisely...ENJOY!


Is someone trying to knock me off here?

Monday, October 24, 2005

Joy Division

Soundtrack: Bruce Sprinsteen / Born to Run

Woah. Tuesdays after a big weekend are aptly named. It's not like today there is anything particularly SADNESS or anything, but two days of digesting and detoxifying drugs and alcohol in your body just give you this feeling of...tightness inside. Spring loaded, tightly wound, frown frown frown...le brain petit gets a little loco and it ALL makes sense that darkness...yargh.

All those things I can find inside and write on this page about LIFE (happy!) LOVE (BOINK!) and the wandering spirits we are...well, shuttup your face when your skin is sensitive and melty and your brain feels like a prune, all dried and wrinkly and good for your bum.

Luckily, there is beer and company and dinner at a place that serves crocodile and camel and wasabi ice-cream to look forward to.

The days are made more beautiful as always dinner lies in wait. And like courting and fucking, the anticipation lasts and lasts...

Sunday, October 23, 2005


Soundtrack: Wings / Live and Let Die

I was at a party.

Possibly one of the most enjoyable I have ever attended.

Best party band. Best party people.

And there were so many fucking dolled up, frocked out incredibly hot fucking girls there.

But none compared.

She's still the most beautiful girl-woman I have ever seen.

And when the sun came up and showed us east to find home, we passed out in the sunshine in the backyard, waking up to drink wine and take our tops off.

I feel like I am floating.

What the fuck is this dream?

It has been a long ride to get where we are now. Ups and downs, bumps and grinds. You know...stuff.

I feel strange, post-drugs and alcohol strange. But we're about to watch a storm come in over a different city. Storms and sticky heat to match our hearts. And rain to wash away bad memories.

Life is fucking crazy man. Let's rumble.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

There are some things that nothing can prepare you for. Shit that don't come with an instruction manual. Experiences that you will have but once in your life that make you realise how deep, and sad and fleeting and beautiful and fucking random life is.

These things shape us, make us, BRAND us.

Pain is such a personal thing. You may have a hand to sqeeze, a shoulder to cry on, a rubber squeaky bone to stick between your clenched clenched CLENCHED fucking teeth, but in the end there is only you, your heart and the pain.

But pain means you're alive. Means you're ONE OF US.

Pain brings understanding of the world in all its unmerciful fucking glory and handled the right way, it brings strength and growth and instead of turning you to stone, it can open your heart to the endless possibilities of Life.

My friend is in pain, therefore so am I.

My friend is in pain but rather than sympathy, my friend will feed on strength and love and a smile which shows A WAY OUT.

My friend is the bravest, strongest, most wonderful person I know.

You are not alone. Us orphans gots to stick together.

Forever. I will be with you forever.

I love you.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

It's time to spread our wings and FLY

Soundtrack: John Lennon / Intuition

We have grown.

Ever since I can remember, I've called myself "ambitious", thinking that therefore I was somebody, I was destined to BE somebody.

When I was about 6 years old I used to direct pretend movies at family barbeques and order everyone around and tell them to "get into character" or that I couldn't "FEEL" their performance.

My mother and sister would look at each other and say things like, "one day...that Mathew, he'll look after us all..."

Their friends would look at each other and say, "fuck he's an obnoxious little cunt isn't he?"

When I was 16 I was awarded a scholarship to go and study in Japan. I ended up there for almost three years, travelling, drinking, studying Kendo and Ninjutsu and Medieval Japanese History. The whole trip was paid for by Western Mining, who believed that I would BE somebody. Who backed me to come back and lead their Japanese Division into the future.

I didn't.

I came back and started smoking bongs and, of course I was fucking 19...I started a band.

When I was in the band I KNEW. I knew we would BE somebody. We would fucking make it. Coke and pussy baby. Coke and motherfucking pussy and travelling the world and gig after gig after gig and non stop CREATIVITY.

7 years we ran that band and the furthest we got out of Melbourne was Warnambool, Ballarat, Leongatha. But still, good coke, a little pussy...but CREATIVITY and that's the fucking shit.

Eventually we all got so broke that Fiscal Responsibility could be ignored no more. We were 26-27, and girls were starting to pay more attention to guys who actually owned cars or could afford to take them to dinner rather than boys who looked great on stage but baby, when the reality walks off their all sweaty and broke...well, you've got to be a certain type of girl, and I certainly hadn't met too many of them...

So I got a job and I learned a trade making magazines until eventually one drug fuelled weekend, some friends and I decide we could start our own mag...we would BE somebody...

Fuck me, that was pretty much 5 years ago, and I'm tired.

I'm tired of ambition. I don't really CARE about taking over the world anymore. I like sitting in the park. I like the fact that I walked for an hour to get to this office the other morning and it was sunny and people smiled at me when I walked past them because you know what? I was smiling at THEM.

To be honest, not one ambition I've had has come true, but if I look at it differently then...well, maybe they have. I've always thought that from ambition to fruition meant me rolling in cash, sitting on a beach, skinnies in minis while I'm sinking tinnies sort o' thing...

But this morning I realised...and this is as close to answwering the person who tagged me as i'll get...

I was in a cool band for 7 years.
I lived in a crazy foreign country for three years.
I started a magazine that went from 1500 paper copies in Melbourne, to 30,000 glossy copies all around Australia.
I've made friends with some AMAZING motherfuckers, and you know what is nice? They think I'm amazing too.
I'm writing a book. A book! ME! I'm writing a book! HHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA
Also, I have been asked to write A MOVIE. AHAHAHAHAHA. ME! A MOVIE!

I didn't feel too succesful these last few weeks, not like down on myself, just...I thought I had so far to go still in life....So this post, as rambling as it is, may not mean much to you, but I just had to hint at something and that's...

Why the fuck would I be thinking that when the only thing that really matters is just stopping, smiling and being happy?

And as soon as I let go of my own ambitions, or more to the point, my preconceived notions of what they were...everything came flooding movie made sense, my book has a theme, I know what to do with my music...

But the best bit is:

If nothing pans out, if everything falls apart...I don't really care. There's always a nice park to sit in, and a great book to read, and some oysters to eat and girls to flirt with.

Pish posh Buster.


Monday, October 17, 2005

I'll have what she's having

Soundtrack: Underworld / Cowgirl

Ectasy is a dangerous psychotic drug.

Here are a couple of points to watch out for if you feel you may have taken too much in one go.

1/ Palms become sweaty.

2/ Body temperature rises.

3/ You say the words, I love you, to a complete stranger because it feels nice when they rub your back.

4/ You're okay with your partner.....


Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Aside #7

Soundtrack: Nat King Cole / Unforgettable

The last night I ever spent with my mum I was rushing like a cunt on ecstasy. My sister Jodi and I had spent a week up in Surfers and it was our last night and Mum and Simon (step dad) and Jodi and I all got pretty ga-smasho-ed. Jodi and I of course being who we are, who were were maybe, decided to drop the pills we had stashed all week and see what would happen...

If you knew that you only had one more night left with your mum, what would you do? What would you talk about?

It wasn't like I knew I'd never see her again, but it was like no other night.

Of course it was the drugs, but it was a whole lot more too.

Simon was a silent observer, strangely enough video-ing the whole fucking night, and that's why I'm writing this today because I've just got my hands on the video after 5 years and I've never watched it...

*writes label The Last Fucking Waltz*

Whether or not she knew, I doubt it in the state she was in by that point, that we were on drugs is beside the point. The three of us opened up like never before. We talked about EVERYTHING. MOTHERFUCKING EVERYTHING. We emptied our souls to one another in a way that I have never to anyone else. Well, maybe now, one other person...I don't know, I don't know what sort of family you have, what your background is, but kiddies, we had a fucking crapload of things to get out...and it was all so beautiful, and we fucking laughed and cried and my mum danced and smoked pot and screamed "RIBS! ORDER ME RIBS! MUNCHIES!" and everyone was for the first fucking time EVER, all SO present and SO happy and the three of us that had come through fucking fire and brimstone together for so many years...well, One Night Only...we had a break, an afterparty, we shook it the fuck out.

We left before she woke in the morning and the next time I saw her, only four weeks later, she was all yellow tinged, dressed in her favourite red dress, lying still so still...and I made a speech in front of strangers and she sank into the fire and that was it.

But this isn't about mourning, because that's long gone. This is about remembering and in front of me sits the video and I have no fucking idea what's going to happen when I watch it.

But these things, these are the things that remind me to fucking live well, live now, fight on, be fucking happy.

And it's sunny too.



Monday, October 10, 2005


Jello Biafra and The Melvins / The Lighter Side of Global Terroism

For absolutely no reason at all, today I feel like getting the fuck out of the city and watching the world destroy itself below. Like RED DAWN! Sigh. I always wanted to be in Red Dawn. Apart from the whole WAR thing, and you know, like, everybody dies and shit...except two of them, one of them is the nerdy one, how come the fuck the nerdy ones always survive, something about the meek maybe? But anyway C. Thomas Howell (ME THAT'S ME ME ME ME) dies a courageous death, and Patrick Swayze is all fuck yeah baby I'm the older brother but even in war I'm all like conflicted by emotions and ANYWAY I'm still a teenager who just wants to make out and shit..


FUCK YEAH! What a movie. I really need to see it again.


I don't really want the end of the world. I want calm blue oceans and a nice farm and bouncing babies and friends and family all around and an endless supply of the World's Greatest Food. Nothing major.

But if the world is going to end, I'm getting all Red Dawn baby.

I guess it started...

Yesterday as I sat drinking in the sun. I pondered the meaning of life and the world around us and I thought of the earthquake in Pakistan, now like 30,000 dead or something ridiculous like that and I could see the future and it was extremists blaming the government for the earthquake, naming it divine retribution and building to a crescendo of violence in the name of their GOD.

And meanwhile in the "Land of Freedom" an old drunk was beaten to death by The Law, that itchy trigger happy Law that fled the scene of destruction their pants soiled by fear as Nature swaggered into the Big Easy and washed away their sins...or actually...EXPOSED their motherfucking sins.

And all Hell broke loose.

And all Hell IS breaking loose.

And fucktard Pat Robertson thinks it MAY be the end of the world, and even a man who supposedly has that much FAITH in the fucking lord has to hedge his bets with his TV audience by saying it "may" be the end of the world.



So yeah, now I'm thinking I'm a' gonna load up on supplies (SUPPLIES!) hit the road, get to the cabin, load the shotgun, find a vantage point and watch the world destroy itself and burn baby burn below*

Fuck it.

New Years Eve sounds as good a time as any.

Let's start a war.

*Fiddling optional.

Also...I think i'm still on steroids...can you tell?

Sunday, October 9, 2005

Eating Nuts: A timeline

4:00 pm: HEY EVERYONE! WOOHOO! It's a wedding party, let us imbibe tasty lagers and catch up with friends and...hold on...oooooh yum!.....I'll have one of those rice balls fo' shizzle...

4:15pm: Excuse me young sexy waitress, were there any nuts in those rice balls? You'll check with the chef? GREAT! Thankyou...There wasn't? Okay great, I must just be imagining things...

4:20pm: I think I'll go and ask the chef myself...What's that you say chef? There were DEFINETLY NO NUTS in those rice balls? 100% positive you say? Great! I must just be imagining things...

4:45pm: Ummm....miss....would you mind driving me to the...ho...s...p.....iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.........


5:00pm: ....................................

6:00pm: ......................woah.....

6:15pm: ....argh...these steroids mixed with adrenalin are starting TO REALLY KICK IN...



7:00: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz............

7:30: zzzz.....sob.....miss...can you take me home now please?

*prepares affidavit*

Thursday, October 6, 2005

And on a slightly more serious note

Today my sister drives 9 hours to South Australia to check herself into a 6 month rehabilitation program for heroin addicts. The strength she has displayed in facing her demons and choosing to fight them is beyond fucking inspirational, it completely breaks my fucking heart.

I've written about her before, her life and battles. She read it and laughed and said she didn't mind all you fuckers knowing these things about her, in fact she thought it helped her decide that she was going to force a change in her life.

There are things I need to fix in MY life. Finding the courage to do so is one of the hardest things any of us can do. Ignoring things is just so damn easy. Distractions are so damn easy.

And then there's my sis, who so many of her friends and the rest of our "family" completely wrote off as a lost cause...showing us all how it's motherfucking done.

Oh fuck.

I love you Pops.

I'll be waiting.

*cries, dies and loves*

I don't know. Don't you just find it a LITTLE disturbing?

Wednesday, October 5, 2005

Never lose your sense of wonder

Soundtrack: Gentle Ben and his Sensitive Side / Filling in the Ditch

I am currently in a phase of living one moment to the next.

It's a nice way to do things.

Switching off the internal mono/dialogue as much as possible and just taking in the NOW.

I forget about that sometimes. Forget that it's in those moments that you notice the clouds, the trees, the people, the sunshine, the smells...and whenever you can shut the fuck up those endless fucking voices in your head (the tower, the gun, the tower the gun...) that life gets good and your heart opens up and without helping it the corners of your mouth turn up and your teeth flash and you find yourself smiling, grinning for no fucking reason.

A few weeks ago I was standing on a balcony in the country and it started to rain rain rain, heavy fucking rain and you read about shit like this so much that it almost sounds cliche, but I stripped and stood underneath the sky and smiled and danced and laughed.

And beside me, a naked fucking wood nymph smiled and danced too.

And THAT was my moment.

No words, no thoughts.
Just rain and freedom.
Pure and simple.

Whatever will be will be and that's such a fucking beautiful way to live that I may just cum happiness like a fucking volcano.

Can I finish with a ghey Bob Dylan quote?

Those who aren't busy being born, are busy dying.

Tuesday, October 4, 2005

The Cyber Pass

Soundtrack: The Rapture / I need your love

I used to kill time at work by logging on to dodgy fucked up swinging websites.

It wasn't so much that I was entertaining the idea, though I was, but more the "secret squirrel pit of your stomach mist" that enveloped me whenever I was doing something I shouldn't.

I used to get that a lot. Because I used to do shit I shouldn't have been doing A LOT.

A lot.

So, I made a profile on Adult Match Maker and with my computer screen angled just so at work, would spend my days looking at all the strange people who were trawling cyberspace for discreet sex. Sounds like blogging doesn't it? But without the brains perhaps. And with more photos...

Anyhoo, I found a photo of someone who looked like me, but was perhaps a shade hotter and I took a photo of my penis and voila! I was a born again swinger.

It would be only a matter of days before the torrent began...

And begin it did.

All of a sudden LOTS OF NEW AND INTERESTING PEOPLE IN MY AREA WERE WANTING TO MEET ME. I was the Belle of the Ball. Or perhaps, I was the Balls with no Belle. Either or.

I was propositioned by a 56 year old woman, couples, singles, A DENTIST (MALE), groups...(not a dentist group...and that's the tooth) Liqorice all sorts came out of the woodwork to contact me, all while I was sitting innocently at my work desk, supposedly making a magazine.

In the end, the Heat started to get to me, and the thrill of the Unknown began to drive my spindly (yet elegant and sexy) fingers to reply to three different profiles.

The first reply was to a 27 year old girl, who was supposedly in an "adventurous" couple..."looking for good times". I suggested going to see a band followed by a shot of absinthe. I always have a good time doing that, but it seemed I was off the mark, SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT SEX. I KNOW! CRAZY!


I arranged to meet her at The Lounge in the city. 2pm, weekday. Safe.

So I sat on the balcony and I had myself a beer or three and I smoked some chicanos until before me stood something that looked a little like this:

"mmmmm...threeway we will have"

No motherfucker. Threeway we will NOT motherfucking have.

But sometimes as I am struck by the Demon Mist Lust, I am also struck by its GHEY cousin, the Demon Nice and Polite. So I bought Yoda a beer and talked shit for a little while...

Hey Yoda. Do people really ever meet like this? Isn't it strange? I'm sure you are only doing it for the WEIRD EXPERIENCE like I am...ummm...Mummy make the bad alien faced woman go away....

"Mmmm, another beer you will have, back to mine you will come, yes....commmmme"

[in Homer Simpson voice:] EEEE!

So Matty ran away.

The second message I replied to was from a group. WE ARE ALL 18-30. BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE ONLY. WE ENJOY MUTUAL MATURBATION AND ALL NIGHT ORGIES.

Well, fuck me kids, so the fuck do I. Let's rumble!

They sent me a message and told me to meet at Bimbo Deluxe on Brunswick Street. They would send one of their group, a female to "suss me out"

Cool, I said. Tomorrow it is!

That night I went on a savage four pill, two grams of speed bender, so I arrived at Bimbo Deluxe...a little....shaky....

All of a sudden I was tapped on the shoulder by a woman who looked a little like this:

"excuse me...are you Mat?"

I swear, somedays I look kinda cute. Promise. But after that many fucking drugs and no sleep...well, I turned to face her...

"Mmmmm...gangbang I am wanting!"

She was not possesed of the Demon Nice and Polite and promptly jumped into the air, knocking drinks off the bar behind her and she fled in horror...


Alas poor Gangbang...I know not you well. Perhaps I was a little harsh on my first friend.

Now the third message took me a little longer to reply to as my first two experiences were a little offputting, but her picture was cute and she wrote with a wit and she was a Cancerian who I have a soft spot for so...I wrote back.

We enjoyed a couple of weeks of flirtatious emails before moving onto MSN Messenger. I learnt she had a husband, I learnt that during the day at work is a really fun time to have incredibly filthy conversations on MSN Messenger, I learnt that each night she would tell her husband about our conversations and they would have wild and crazy sex, and while they were doing that I learnt that during or after these conversations well...if you've got to've got to go. Work toilet or no work toilet.

Eventually, I invited them to a party I was having IN A PENTHOUSE SUITE IN THE CITY. It was actually a very important work party for a very important client. People would be there. Not just people, but PEOPLE. Cocksmoking corporate advertising and fashion people. Aaah, those halcyon days of publishing...


Anyhoo, a little wary, but with an adventurous spirit they accepted the invitation.

They were amongst the first to arrive. It was really nice to meet them. They were from out in the 'burbs but good people and we got along really well. Sweet!

It's just...I really wish...

It took me a couple of hours to find out. People were patting me on the back and laughing good naturedly at me. Winking at me. Chuckling and tittering behind my back.

I mean I really wish...

And I didn't really pay any attention to any of this until I was standing with the International Marketing Manager of Nike having a yarn and trying to impress him when up they came and joined the conversation and the Nike guy asked them..

"So how do you know Mat?

And of course, OF COURSE, they replied...

"Oh we met him on Adult Match Maker, you know the swinger's site?"

It was only fourteen stories down.

Didn't hurt that much.

Monday, October 3, 2005

No mean feet

I had a conversation with my friend Skye on Sunday afternoon, it went a little someting like this.

"So, I was on a train to Germany from Spain and this guy jerked off on my foot..."

"Dude! What he mean he jerked off on your foot?"

"I mean I was on the train and he just started going for it until he came and it landed on my foot"

" just let him keep going until he came on your foot? What the fuck? Was it a packed train? Was he standing next to you? Tell me what the fuck!

"No well, I was kind of asleep, I was in a compartment and he just came in and sat next to me. Then I started to wonder...what's he doing with his hand down there..."

"AAAAH! So, you just froze? Until HE CAME ON YOUR FOOT?"

"Well Mum didn't seem to notice..."


"Well actually he was kind of aiming it at her..."


"And at the last moment...."


"I stuck my foot out to save it splurting onto I was like the fucking superhero here dig?"

"Oh was it a bare foot?"

"A Bear foot? WHAT? AHAHAHAHA"

"No dickwad...a BARE foot...did it land on skin?"

"Yeah, I had sandals on but it landed on my bare foot...but THEN...Get this...He stands up, walks out of the compartment...and comes back in with a tissue and says..."


"He says...Here...clean yourself up woman"


"True fucking story"

*catches train to work*

Sunday, October 2, 2005

How Soon Is Now?

Soundtrack: Dolly Parton / Those were the days

I've been deep, deep in this fucking city for fifteen years. Raping it. Drinking it in, sucking it fucking dry of everything it has to offer. I have fucked its many mistresses, suckled at its entertainment teet, uh-oh-spaghetti-oh, have I trashed this damn town...

I am not ready to stop, but...

This morning I sat outside eating eggs on Brunswick St when by chance a group of men took the table next to me and proceeded to discuss rather loudly their business dealings. Business dealings which will create yet another direct competitor to my own business. I learnt a lot. I learnt not to have a business meeting out on the street as you never know who is sitting next to you.

Anyway, there they sat discussing their new (well...relaunched) magazine and I was listening and it was all:

"Man, it's gonna have sex and drugs and alcohol and yeah...that's what people's going to be EDGY MOTHERFUCKER!"

And I sipped my coffee and I lit a cigarette and my thoughts drifted to last week to when I sat in a tiny little pub in the bush and having left the lights on in my car, the owner of the pub gave me the keys to his van to drive around. Or the other pub in town where I left a packet of cigarettes after eating there, and there were only 7 cigarettes in the pack, and I didn't return to that pub for two weeks, but when I did the bartender handed me the packet of smokes, having kept them safe, knowing I'd come back.

And I've done the drugs and the fucking and the alcohol and the motherfucking edgy. I've done it HARD. And to be honest, I'll do it again, but something is starting to fade and the lure of that Honest Approach to life is getting stronger.

Fuck edgy. Edgy can suck my motherfucking cock.

Thursday, September 29, 2005 me muck 'ole...

Soundtrack: Digger and the Pussycats / Fashion Victim

Last night I went to something I thought would look a little like this:

But in reality actually looked a lot like this:

There was however one particular highlight. One of the models was incredible. The second sexiest woman I have ever seen in my life. I was a little drunk. I was sitting perched on my seat drinking in her raw sensuality. I turned to my friend, The Bean and talking loudly so I could be heard over the pulsating techno exclaimed:

"I'd LOVE to fuck her up the arse Bean"

You know those times when the music stops and your voice rings out across the entire Atrium and all sorts of dolled up, cokey fashionista types just breath sharply inward and turn and glare at you...and it all happens in a split second and then the music starts again...and then you feel a tap tap tap on your shoulder and it's a middle aged woman and she leans close enough to whisper, that's my daughter you know...

And The Bean fell on the floor in Historic Hysterics.

But the model. She looked me right in the eye and smiled and winked, did her turn and shimmyed that yummy bummy back down the catwalk and out of sight.

And the hours that followed...well, getting drunk and dancing on a couch hasn't felt that good in a long time.

It's Fashion Dahling.



Monday, September 26, 2005


In the end
All we've got
Are the rules
We choose to play by

I choose Love no matter what the Truth. I choose to look you all in the eye as I drip with knowledge and still smile right back. I choose to talk straight and do so in the Light of Day. I choose to meet you in the Field of Battle and throw roses at you, perhaps a fart bomb if the whim takes me. I choose to stick to a religion of my own making, whereby I will Perceive and Investigate, and I will Understand and Laugh It Off. I will do my fucking damndest to hold my knowledge sacred and never mount a High Horse, though fuck me...look out when I'm pissed. I've been known to get a little Dark. And I will write strange blog posts and forever strive for language and meaning far beyond my capacity, but well within reach.

Fear? I know not fear. There are only moments of confusion.

Everything I have feared this past year has come to pass, and yet here I sit smiling. For Hunter was right. There is no fear, only confusion. Confusion, Mr Frank Herbert, is the mind killer, not fear. Lately, I have watched confusion all around me. People circling themselves and each other, blinded and hooded and unwilling, unable to breath, slow the play, take stock, exhale confusion. And armed with anthropological curiousity I have taken my own lessons from this and found my own way through and you know what? There is no confusion really either, not once you look around at what is REAL. Brains are powerful and dangerous things. But they are not hearts, they just wish they were and act accordingly.

The only things that really matter in a hotel are privacy, fresh oysters and a telephone.

Stop what you are doing please. Find yourself a sanctuary where you no longer know anything but your own needs. Just for a little while. Don't do anything rash. Pick up the phone, order some oysters and allow yourself a little fucking luxury and a truck-fuck-load of privacy. Now believe whatever it is you want to believe, but calculate Fact vs. Fiction vs. Daydreaming vs. Hope. Have some more oysters and get pissed. Wait for the brick to hit you, then open the door to the outside world.

The too much fun club is back in business. Let us rumble.

Let the light settle. Remember that no matter what, Freedom comes first. Then happiness. But let us quantify freedom for a moment then we can start on the shots. Freedom is not, "I do what I want!" Freedom is being able to stand alone or together or in a group of people and never have to worry about the Weight. Whether it is introspection or dealing with another, Freedom allows you to be one hundred percent READY. You are ready. Freedom means you do not carry in your heart, a knot, a hole, a hurt. For if you do, then how will we be able to laugh freely together at the bar? How will you be able to look me in the eye? Freedom is not Anarchy, taking what you think is yours for you are free and Fuck The World, Fuck The Rules. Freedom means, no lies, only truth. That my fellow troubled souls, is motherfucking liberating. THEN comes happiness.

*pours shot*

*opens door*

*smiles at Life*

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Make word from pitcha coz brain is woolly. Fully.

I was the only person in the cafe at 6.30 Sunday Morning. I wasn't there to buy a latte, but I did.

This what I looked like on Sunday when I went into the pub next to my house to buy Pain Killing Alcohol. I didn't realise there were Actors in the pub. Of course they would notice my bottom. That is what actors do. Notice bottoms.

I won a Silver Medal. Second comes right after FIRST!

Someone spewed into a bucket full of pee in my bedroom yesterday. Here I have recreated that scene using a pumpkin and seeds. Createrrific.

I have felt like this since 7.00pm Saturday.

Please advise.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

If a man foofs in his office does he still make a sound?

Sometimes, the right song, the right day.

Fuck I love this band.

Soundtrack: Les Savy Fav / We'll make a lover of you.

(Find it, turn it up, pull your pants down and pretend to be me. It'll be fun. I promise...)


They say, "Once you've found love and it's rarer than gold.
You stake your claim- it's so hard to hold."
I say, "We've struck a vein and it's wide as a road!"

Have we got love enough to go around?
Why don't you get a piece and pass it down?
Even a hundred million years from now
The love we make will still be putting out

We filled up our pockets till they would explode
and called the whole world here so they could behold
the light of our love beats the dark and the cold

Have we got love enough to go around?
Why don't you get a piece and pass it down?
Even a hundred million years from now
The love we make will still be putting out

I get the best of you, you get the best of me.
You know I come to you across the broadest sea.
For just a speck of you I'd trade the whole of me.
I wish each peck from you would last eternity.

Where the skin's thin and where the skin gathers.
When you're moving in and see it's all that matters.
Records left skipping, clothing all scattered,
a kiss in the kitchen, the dishes all shattered

We'll make a lover of you.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Friendship Troopers

Soundtrack: Billy Bragg & Wilco / Airplane to Heaven

The universe has a way of knowing when you are vulnerable. And I must say, it's not always a kind, gentle universe we live in. Sometimes it waits until you have nothing left, stripped bare of your protective layers before laying its fucking boots in. And when that happens, there is no respite, no relief, only a "fucking Hell...what the fuck else do you want to throw at me, throw me a fricken bone here!" attitude.

The thing is, it's at these moments, that you get a chance to show what you're made of. To show the universe that you're made of the good, strong stuff, and you laugh and pick yourself up and become twice the person you were.

And the universe, kind and caring after all, but motherfucking filled with tough love, lets go of you and smiles warmly, satisfied with a job well done.

There are people in this world who do not get to learn these lessons. There are people who aren't interested in Love or Peace or Happiness.

That's their fucking problem.

As an old friend of mine with a fucking annoying habit of impersonating Ali G always said to me...

Increase the peace.

Today, Love is all around.

Grab the fuck onto it wherever you can.




Sunday, September 11, 2005

Don Quixotic

Soundtrack: Bright Eyes / At the bottom of everything

8:50 - 9:00

It is impossible to find happiness in the arms of another if you cannot find it within yourself. But should you find yourself wrapped in someone's arms, it should not be seen as escape. It should be seen as respite. One brief moment in time. One blink of an eye.. One moment to breath and close your eyes and feel...just feel.

There goes my home. Receding like tide waters behind me as my coach pulls out and onward goes The B. And my home does not move, just hands-in-pockets watches as I turn and face forward.

And I know the feeling.

9:00 - 9:15

Outside the window I stare and spread my heart across the countryside. I take everything inside me. I take the trees, the hills, the creeks, the farmhouses. I take the sky. I take it all in and I give myself over to loving it, because I know the man sitting next to me is buried in his Business News and has no idea that I encompass him as well. I free myself and love the world, because, if you have these feelings, it is your duty to do so.

9:15 - 9:30

I play the game I have played since I was four years old. Outside the window I ride my hovering skateboard, dodging trees, skimming dams and sending white cold spray flying skyward in my wake. We hit the forest and I lower my centre of gravity. It is difficult now, fast and dangerous, in, out, over logs and under branches, faster, faster, faster, ducking, weaving, speeding until BANG the forest breaks open and the hills explode space as far as the horizon and on my board I hold my hands out and my head tilts to the sky and I scream WOOHOO!

And inside the coach, I laugh. I laugh with my own joy. And the Business News man shifts across the aisle to the newly vacated seat beside us.

9:30 - 9:45

I search the ache inside. I puzzle over it as though it is a multi-coloured cube all chaos and formless. Click. Click. I turn it in my hands until it takes shape. Until it is not an ache. It is a BEAT. BEAT. BEAT. It is a living fucking beating heart. And it continues to beat. And it will continue to beat for every one of these 650,00 hours I am here.

Tick. Tick.

9:45 - 10:02

Underdressed and overfed. It's cold in Ballarat, so I find a corner and light up.

10:02 - 11:00

At a dinner party, or out with friends at a restaurant. I am the guy who walks outside alone and smokes. So I am the last to jump the train as yes, the whistle blows and the doors close and my frozen nose...drips. Heh.

I find a seat, the only one that comes in pairs and marvel at my luck, until beside my chairs a door opens and a man emerges all flushed and I know exactly what he had for dinner the night before and it's not pretty.

I am a reader. Especially on a trip like this. But this time I show my other side. I am a starer. I am a ponderer and a daydreamer and it's just so fucking beautiful out there I choose that over Editorials and Don't You Hate It Whens...And the view rewards me, though I could never describe how.

My thoughts turn to home. Not the one I have left. Behind. But the one in front of me. And it is though I am standing in a shower of revelation. For it begins to trickle slowly over my scalp, tickling my ears, dripping over my naked shoulders before wrapping the rest of me in its warm embrace.

I have no home.

This is not a sad statement.

On the contrary.

Right NOW. Watching houses, hills, mountains, dams, forests scream past me...I feel more at home right now than I ever have. In between places. I am the in-between man. And I laugh at myself again, but this time there is only the toilet door beside me, and thankfully, it remains close lipped.

I do have a house, that is lit in blue the way approaching light takes that hue. It is a nice house. In fact, it is as close to a physical representation of home as I have ever had. But home is a place deep inside, and that is either a hundred miles behind me, or a hundred years in front.

And the first of two coincidences takes place as we shoot past Sunshine Station and out of the clouds it comes and if Business News man is on this train I hope he looks out the window at that moment because if you think you're missing out on finding happiness or missing out on the world's events...THEN TAKE A FUCKING LOOK AT THAT! That, my friend, is an event.


Witness says he was too busy doing crossword to notice Nature's Beauty.


And the second comes as I light my next cigarette. Huddled out of the wind under canvas back in the city. On the half built Platform lies a gigantic Yellow Machine. Its purpose eluding me but painted in huge black letters on its side the word: Allight.

And I smile and draw back my sweet toxic friend. Because kids, today...I feel Allllight.

Cue Haddaway's: What Is love.

Friday, September 9, 2005

When...the....moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie....

Not being a Bill Bryson-esque genius able to woo you with HILARIOUS (while I was asleep) Travel anecdotes, I never really went into any detail describing my mid-year tropicana sojourn in the South Pacific. Sun, sand, alcohol. The end.

I got to meet some truly wonderful people and over copious cocktails we all pledged to remain forever friends after we returned to our home countries. CHEESY!

The thing is, you never really know if the people you drink pina coladas with on the beach watching the sunset and surreptitiously sneak a look at the wives' boozies, actually like you as much as you like them. I tend to gush (....ahem...) about how great they are behind their backs and how coool it is to make new friends blah blah blah.

This morning, I received an email from Ambrogio and Germania an Italian couple we broke bread with in Fiji.


(Secret Aside: You may notice an alarmingly recurrent use of the word Mark. This is one of those in jokes that was of course hilarious at the time but is impossible to explain. Just chuckle knowingly every time you see the word)

So, without further Apu...

Hi guys!

How are you? We hope everything is fine in Melbourne.
We often think at our honeymoon with a big pleasure (of course) and we appreciated very much to meet you in that beautiful place called Vatulele...we had such a good time together! (MARK!)
Some days ago we remembered that you should have been visiting Europe this month, and we wondered if you would pass also through would be really nice to meet you again!
Hope to hear good news from our Aussie friends
Ambro & Ge

<Funny Version>
HEY! How are you doing, Marks?
There are a lot of things we have to tell you since we met in Vatulele Disco Dancing Club!
First of all we were wondering if you'll pass through Italy during your rave party tour in Europe this month...we hope the answer is MARK, of course!
After our travel back to Italy we decided to take advantage of Ambro's skills in opening coconuts and we founded a new company called I.C.O.V.S.P. (Italian Coconuts Openers Vatulele Style Plant), so everything is going really really fine here in Milan! We're looking for a distributor in Oceania, please think about it...
We hope to see you again before dying...but FIRST, a little bit of BOOMBA BOOMBA!
Ambro & Ge

<Angry version>
Oh! We're talking with you guys!
Why the hell didn't you write any bloody news from your side???
Maybe we are not enough for you, f***ing snobs?
We hate you so much that we punch and kick each other everyday to do some training for the f***ing moment when we'll meet you during your f***ing european loss of time...
Please come and meet us, the only thing we ask is to warn us with some days of advance so that we can invite all our friends in order to make you a appropriated welcome...MWHUAHUAHAUAHUAHAUAHAUHAHHHHH!!!!
"Chainsaw" Ambro & "Ripper" Ge

<Short version>
How are you?
Are you coming to Italy?

<morse version>

If you are really reading this final part of the message you could realize some of the following things:
a) you have some friends in Milan (Italy) that miss you very much and really look forward to meet you again, better if in Italy, in front of a good REAL Parmisan dish...
b) you have some friends in Milan (Italy) that are very silly and write you stupid annoying emails...
c) you have some friends in Milan (Italy).
d) when you were completely drunk in Vatulele (Fiji), you gave your email adresses to some really crazy guys and now you're seriously thinking at changing them.
e) I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! ARE YOU REALLY REALLY STILL READING SUCH A STUPID MESSAGE??? That make you able to read the following point:
f) you are a person in Melbourne (Australia) with big mental problems.
g) you are a person in Melbourne (Australia) with big mental problems and some really strange friends in Milan (Italy).
h) you are a person in Melbourne (Australia) with big mental problems and some really strange friends in Milan (Italy) and YOU'RE GOING TO REPLY TO THIS EMAIL AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!