Sitting at my girlfriends, stokin her laptop and declaring it a Reagan Youth Day. Thats pretty much the best start to any blog and I'm frothing right now.
WE ARE REAGAN YOUTH.
REAGAN YOUTH.
REAGAN YOUTH, SIEG HEIL.
Its kinda the song you want to cover, maybe even change the lyrics to make it a little more modern however you also don't wanna come off all wanky and ruin a great song. The prices we pay in this life. Geez.
Friday night was Taipan and Deathcage. Wasn't a bad night at all. Caught up with the gang and some peeps I haven't seen in a while before Deathcage came one. Spider turned a half-hallway into a makeshift rockstar dressing room and did a little jiggle and jive with his mic to hype himself. Maybe if he hung a drape and got a makeup artist such a display could have his band supporting Airbourne and playing stadiums in no time? Could possibly suit his cute little pout-and-flex when the cameras come out? Haha, despite my jokes they still a good band and put on a great set. Spit, punches, beer and water was all over everyone and we were enjoying watching a hippie dance about all weird and get smashed about by punks. His little hemp handbag ripped and personal effects including nail polish, coins, hippy belt, chalk, and god knows what else spilled everywhere. When the coins were handed back to him he was swallowing them. Admittedly there wasn't a great deal of chest beating about muscled up punks/skins smashing a wasted hippie (kinda like kicking a child, funny but don't make a career out of it!) but having said that it was funny as shit and the whole spectacle was great. I had my bus hammer out and enjoyed uncorordinated drunk moshing and being covered in beer.
Between set I got corrected on one of my misconceptions about GAUZE by a guy at the bar and I made pitstops between the Lansdowne and The Broardway Cafe where my girlfriend and her friend were drinking cocktails that tasted like fruity port. Was supposed to be a couples night as her friend brought the better half out but I decided to be all UP THE PUNX and ducked out here and there to check bands. I am a bad boyfriend and I'm suprised my girlfriend hasn't put my nuts in a vice over it. (love you Cait :D).
Taipan were up next and were just as good. People moshing alot and throwing leftover hippie coins. They covered NIGHTSTALKER and everyone just had to kill someone. A skinny Tammworth native known as Admo got the mic and went crazy everywhere. Tables and chairs were thrown. A bunch of chicks against the wall copped a barstool to their heads. My bus hammer found a rib or two and some gym-king lookin dude pulled up Admo from taking a pool cue to mosh with. Saw a mate grab a bouncer/barstaff and pussh him from side to side with no regard. I loved it. Total lawlessness and if all gigs were like that I'd probably shave my head and mosh with a chain.
One little question but. Seemed people went crazy for Nightstalker more than the other songs. I'd even go a little further and say some people were only there just waiting for the cover. How would the band feel about this? Does it matter? Is that poserism or going for what you know? A point for the future I guess.
LETS ALL SHOOT SOME SPEED.
LETS GET REALLY WIRED.
LET'S ALL SPEED FOR A COUPLE OF DAYS.
I'VE BEEN AWAKE NOW AND I'M NOT TIRED.
Back off to Denman tomorrow for driving, driving, driving and job searching. I hate the place but the comfort of my room is soothing as hell, even if it is stuffy and small. More downloading, more mail ordering. The records grow, the iPod fills, the death of mankind is coming and the soundtrack is a mixtape of my records and my hard drive.
Stay sexy.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Everything You Ever Learned.....
Judge from the Left for Dead title and try to assume my mood. Due to disasterous movements across my personal life over various shit I find my mood hitting a point where it's both desperate, angry and most importantly VOLITILE. It's like Jack the Ripper crawled into my head and is whispering ideas into the back of my brain. Everyday life is a disease and the only thing worse than a routine life is a break in the routine with no backup track to walk. And I fear thats where I'm heading. My moods flow in and out like tides. Happy and calm one minute, panic stricken the next followed in some random order by desperation, isolation and some other emotion that I can't really describe. Some sort of cross between sadness, guilt, anger, and apathy mixed together in a big brewing pot aptly labled "RAGE".
My life hasn't gone to plan over these last 2 months and other than getting the hours up on my P's things have moved slowly. I NEED a job, I NEED a place to stay. Even trying to fit in with the modern world at times makes me want to just drop out and hit the needle. If ones life could be an everlasting nose hovering over a mirror then by far and large its up, up and away until your so fucked that you black out before you start falling back down anyways.
To look at the rat race that all are expected to burn themselves out in is nauseating. No wonder people beat their chest proudly about being part of the criminal element. Who would be a working class sucker for $70k a year salary around people you hate when you could be worth a million in the street and have the same raw power and the element of violent action that most regular people wish they could harness themselves?
Other than rediscovering Australia's own PAUL KELLY I've also been blasting a lot of Raised Fist, Motorhead, 86 Mentality, Napalm Hearts, Stanley Knife, Iron Cross and Crude SS. Great bands them so you'd do well to download SOULSEEK (google it) and get addicted to some true raw power.
My dreams I hope will be of calm soothing themes but most likely I'll brood on the events of the past week and rendezvouz with my nightly contemplation of the great end. Death scares me beyond measure. Your whole life is like being sucked into a black hole: nothing can prevent the inevitable end of obliteration and the only real thing to do is have a pleasant journey on the way there. Ultimate hopelessness. Makes me wonder slightly about those self help motivational speakers. Can you really take control of your life when sickness, aging, and the will of others effectivly dominate its whole span of existance until the natural forces that be turn off your switch? Its soothing to think of death the way they portray it in GLADIATOR. your dying moment in slow motion till you way up in a summer field with your loved ones. Completely removed from all earthly worries. For some reason it brings to my mind waking up in a rainforest and hearing everything from birds to monkeys chirping and screaming about in natural serenity. Takes away all fear until the reality of the unknown steps back in. What if it all just ends? No salvation, no spirit, no wonderland to retreat to. A panicked last minute of life before the big plunge into a great nothingness.
Julius Caesar was right. The only true afterlife, the only true existance after death is legacy. Derivitives of his name are used for the titles of Kings. He is know even now for conquests and famous battles. And his last moments were spent being stabbed to death by his friends. A frenzied last moment with the satisfaction of knowing that his name wouldn't simply slip into obscurity but live on for the ages to learn from.
0.001% of people have this satisfaction. The rest of us will be thrown on the scrapheap to rot out before the deathrattle has even left our throats. Give up.
I cant think of anything else to vent. With that I crawl off to bed to crash like a wreck and fall asleep with my iPod in my ears. Something soft and mellow. My head and heart are still raging and inside its felt like lions and lambs have laid down to sleep but neither dare shut their eyes. Its going to be a long night ahead of me. Someone shoot me now. Ergh.
My life hasn't gone to plan over these last 2 months and other than getting the hours up on my P's things have moved slowly. I NEED a job, I NEED a place to stay. Even trying to fit in with the modern world at times makes me want to just drop out and hit the needle. If ones life could be an everlasting nose hovering over a mirror then by far and large its up, up and away until your so fucked that you black out before you start falling back down anyways.
To look at the rat race that all are expected to burn themselves out in is nauseating. No wonder people beat their chest proudly about being part of the criminal element. Who would be a working class sucker for $70k a year salary around people you hate when you could be worth a million in the street and have the same raw power and the element of violent action that most regular people wish they could harness themselves?
Other than rediscovering Australia's own PAUL KELLY I've also been blasting a lot of Raised Fist, Motorhead, 86 Mentality, Napalm Hearts, Stanley Knife, Iron Cross and Crude SS. Great bands them so you'd do well to download SOULSEEK (google it) and get addicted to some true raw power.
My dreams I hope will be of calm soothing themes but most likely I'll brood on the events of the past week and rendezvouz with my nightly contemplation of the great end. Death scares me beyond measure. Your whole life is like being sucked into a black hole: nothing can prevent the inevitable end of obliteration and the only real thing to do is have a pleasant journey on the way there. Ultimate hopelessness. Makes me wonder slightly about those self help motivational speakers. Can you really take control of your life when sickness, aging, and the will of others effectivly dominate its whole span of existance until the natural forces that be turn off your switch? Its soothing to think of death the way they portray it in GLADIATOR. your dying moment in slow motion till you way up in a summer field with your loved ones. Completely removed from all earthly worries. For some reason it brings to my mind waking up in a rainforest and hearing everything from birds to monkeys chirping and screaming about in natural serenity. Takes away all fear until the reality of the unknown steps back in. What if it all just ends? No salvation, no spirit, no wonderland to retreat to. A panicked last minute of life before the big plunge into a great nothingness.
Julius Caesar was right. The only true afterlife, the only true existance after death is legacy. Derivitives of his name are used for the titles of Kings. He is know even now for conquests and famous battles. And his last moments were spent being stabbed to death by his friends. A frenzied last moment with the satisfaction of knowing that his name wouldn't simply slip into obscurity but live on for the ages to learn from.
0.001% of people have this satisfaction. The rest of us will be thrown on the scrapheap to rot out before the deathrattle has even left our throats. Give up.
I cant think of anything else to vent. With that I crawl off to bed to crash like a wreck and fall asleep with my iPod in my ears. Something soft and mellow. My head and heart are still raging and inside its felt like lions and lambs have laid down to sleep but neither dare shut their eyes. Its going to be a long night ahead of me. Someone shoot me now. Ergh.
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