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October 25, 2005


Being a big fan of Chomsky, I've seen my fair share of documentaries and expose's about manipulation of the media and selective reporting. It's something that I've come to associate with a leftist call to action and leftist political standpoint. However, having just watched a documentary pieced together as it turned out by the JBS, John Birch Society, it was interesting to note how hard done by ultra-conservatives can sometimes feel. I guess, this isn't an issue i expected to be raised by members of the opposite end of the political spectrum. It was also rather humerous to note obvious contradiction of distorting media to outline and proffer evidence of distorted media.

The JBS is an anit-communist organisation claiming selective media practices are focusing and distorting issues such as gun control and gobalisation. They are obessed with some freak notion where UN New World Order will crush American god-given freedoms and centralised governments will impose socialist restrictions on basic Christain rights. Have a google on the web and check em out if you don't know about them.. They're obessed with illuminati conspiracies.

Check em

Posted by alex at 1:06 PM | Comments (0)


doorway.jpg Woman in a Hanbok

Posted by alex at 1:04 PM | Comments (1)

October 21, 2005

Outside it's raining


Posted by alex at 12:21 PM | Comments (1)

October 11, 2005

Milhouse and Elvis. The State of American Decay

elnix.gif It is not the Bill of Rights. It is not the Constitution of the United States... No, the most requested document or image from the United States National Archive is this Presidential photo of Presley meeting Nixon on a visit to the White House. No image seems to better encapsulate America in the 70s...

Posted by alex at 11:00 AM | Comments (0)

October 10, 2005

Gyeong-ju Morning


Gyeongju, Korea - 6am, Early October

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October 7, 2005



So I decided to give into myself and I put procrastination aside for all out failure and I turned my computer screen a little to the left and pulled it forward so it would catch the light. I surveyed the remains in my apartment of an ill-spent weekend on unproductive nonsense and wondered if this was the best thing I could be doing.

I’d made a point to myself, several times in fact, to start putting the stories down. The snippets that slip through the memory net yet can’t help but unsettle you at the time they are re-iterated. The kind of stories where the setting of place in which the story is told to you is just as important as the story itself and both dance together like drunk ghosts and at a failed wedding to send shudders down your spine. However you go home and you sway in front of the mirror and you sidetrack yourself with ideals, worries and the stale thought of pre-packaged dinner and all you can remember is the shiver.

The first thing I remember is her birthday. She was 31 and there was nobody to celebrate. Her husband was there, yes, but after 5 years on and off the outspoken Texan had little social adoration to show for it.

She’d been drinking all day.

She hates birthdays.

She gets pretty fucked up when she drinks.

She wraps her arms around me and steadies her self with one arm on the bar, thankful that somebody braved this miserable downpour late on a Sunday night. I looked around the room at the Americans drowning everything else out, at the Korean bartenders paid a 3 lousy bucks an hour, at the Korean girls hopefullying eyeing the room.

The place dying. It stank of rotting pasts.

Not that their was any smell to really detect, but it touched your nostrils and you grimaced. I pulled out a cigarette and turned to her. I had a beer but I didn’t want to drink.

She ordered some shots then berated me for not doing them with her. She yelled about her best friend, about the state of her affairs, her place of work. Life was misery. But better than home.

At home she’s capable of anything. She’s run with a rough crowd. She’s been jail. Old habits die hard she says.

She was carjacked twice. The first time she had a gun put to her head and he told her she was a fucking bitch who was going to be raped and killed. She still has nightmares. She’s scared in America. That sort of thing doesn't leave you. The second time she was stabbed. She looks me in the eyes and says fiercely “I did everything right…?

She was put in jail for 3 months. She drove a big Mercedes and shipped coke, pills and pot around the state. She reckons she was a player. But that’s not what she was arrested for. She drunk drove and broke probation. She made some friends. But when she got out she was scared of what her life had become. She came to Korea. Many come to here to escape.

The alcohol dampens her fire....

It all collapses soon. The tequila high, her beer spilling across the counter. The looks of uncertainty from those further up the bar. She slumps back in her stool and slurs she wants to go home.

We exit, her head on his shoulder. Some american playing pool walks up to the bar and checks my empty pack of cigarettes. He picks up her half finished morose beer sniffs it and walks back to his table.

Posted by alex at 11:32 AM | Comments (0)

October 5, 2005

A Good Kind of Shock


Gampo, Korea - Oct

This phot is the reason why if I ever decide to start a family I'll have to marry somebody Asian. The kids are so damn cute.

Posted by alex at 1:18 PM | Comments (1)

October 4, 2005


set list.jpg

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October 1, 2005

Suck Stuff

suck stuff.jpg

Suck Stuff - Skunkhell

Posted by alex at 1:55 AM | Comments (0)