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May 27, 2006

smells like mean spirit


saw this act of political lampooning and loved it; someone's making a statement in my street using the available dog shit. brilliant.

in other news, friday yielded total extremes; the sharpest beauty and the bitterest ugliness.

i got on a tram and sat down to some yeats (look, it's not posturing, okay? poetry is perfect transit reading because, like short stories, you can dip in and out in little bites or even bitelets, as befits your journey. anyone wanting to hack on the pretentiousness tip - you're right, i can be. but not in that revelation i ain't...). it was supposed to be a 75 or 70, but read "00 North Melbourne" on the front. i informed the driver of this when he asked, to which he laughed in reply, saying 'oh, well - we'll find our way to wherever we're going'. he then bantered with the passengers, taking requests for route names and numbers.

some minutes into my heart fluttering at the fenian's piercing, vital eloquence about age and life and the heart, we had arrived at all the sporting arenas, when the driver leaned out the window to speak to a colleague on the platform:

driver: [to platform guy] hey, who's in charge here?

pg: don't know

driver: no one's in charge? who's running things?

pg: no one.

old guy near front doors: [good-natured, chuckling] what's new?

driver: [to platform guy] where am i supposed to go? [to kind of everyone] does anyone know, or should i just follow my heart? [nervous laughter]

tram punters: yes!
tram punters: *always* follow your heart!
tram punters: [laughter]

driver: [pulling out of platform, to passengers] where do we want to go?
tram punters: surprise us!
tram punters: wherever *you're* going ...
me: [enthusiastically, not impatiently] who cares? if you're following your heart, that's good enough for me. drive!

in a week where i got slugged with a $150 fine for having a two-weeks expired concession card, it was almost worth it so see a half-empty tram of laughing, warm commuters being shown the nakedness of the system's flaws and idiocy being met with a gentle, joyful response rather than mean-spiritedly.

but i got my share of bilious immaturity later in the evening.

Posted by reuben at May 27, 2006 2:46 PM


Oh dear, did you do some discreet editing? I should have read it all while it was there... Or perhaps not.
Lovely tram story, Melbourne's long-distance dream glow just gets glarier, AND...

up with poo protesting!

Enjoy the life,


Posted by: Liz at May 29, 2006 11:23 AM

re: editing – in recounting in minute detail the puerile behaviour directed at me by someone i otherwise actually really care about, i realised i was stooping to her level. t'was a bit silly, and didn't warrant the extra thousand words, specially as it was a minor blip on an otherwise excellent friday night, leading into a pleasantly lazy birthday weekend.

and yeah, i like it here – it's nearly been two years, but melbourne still feels new to me, partly due to my slower-than-usual engagement with a new place.

Posted by: reuben at May 29, 2006 8:05 PM

Yay, this is a Judith Lucy thing! She handed out the little flags as you left her comedy festival shows, I've been looking for an appropriately enormous turd to put mine in. Or maybe just waiting for him to do something more outstandingly cunty than normal. So difficult to choose with that little weasel.

Posted by: Celf at June 2, 2006 10:30 PM

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May 23, 2006

between the leaves, fruit


why do people with these velcro lettering shirts always (eventually) feel the need to hang shit on yours truly? in this case, it was my housemate.

mind, i had been calling him a cock-jockey in perfect italian all week.

fantino di cazzi, in case you were curious.

i've been roundly accused of being a writer before; if you are what you get paid for, then i both am, and will be again, though you'd never know it from this particular outlet. it often astounds me that, for the hundreds of interviews, articles, reviews, books ect that i've worked on that i have so little to show for it. one reason is that i get most lucid, creative, direct and adventurous when writing emails and letters and things that - by their very private nature - will never see the light of (public) day. but i think the main reason i feel so inert and unable to fall through the hole in the page when i sit down to write for this forum is because it (and I) am suffering from a bit of an identity crisis...

it's been mostly photos simply because that's the only real creative flexing i'm doing at the moment (not counting wailing like a fucking rock ninja on my axe behind closed doors - the stage doesn't call so much these days); in recent years any creative impulse i've had has been spent on *people*. i had/have forgotten how to create just for the sake of it; when i was in a band, shooting and writing about bands was only natural, as i was just feeding back into a community that was supporting me, that i was part of. it may be coming up to two years, but in melbs, i'm still kind of interstitial and not really anywhere much. more tellingly, i don't even have much ambition to get anywhere in particular - i've proven to myself many of the things i set out to. professional and creative goals seem to fall away when the biggest, simplest thing of all is so elusive: to just be content with what i have.

there's little evidence of it here, but my writin' muscles are being warmed up.

and once the photo site launches (trust me, also on the back burner) i will start something here. maybe i will talk about The Best Job In The World™ and the Second Best Job In The World™, both of which i have held down.

i don't know what is coming, but i can feel something building up.

maybe i just need some brown rice.

either way i'm gonna lose this tone of quiet earnestness. it is so. fucking. not. me.

Posted by reuben at May 23, 2006 10:21 PM


Hey. Interesting musical sidenote: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loudness_war

Posted by: Crispin at May 25, 2006 4:33 PM

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May 9, 2006

thee convicts

maybe the worst kept secret in melbourne at the moment is that you am i are playing a gig under the name thee convicts at the brunswick east wed 10.5.06.

i know because it's me local.

i love tim rogers. shot him in 96 or so for the hourly daily tour


then again in 2001 for the damage tour, when he was a little rougher around the edges, but still the quintessence of the rock frontman. choice anecdote of evening: (after full water bottle misses head by millimetres; tim continues tuning, unblinking, and simply leans into the microphone and chuckles quietly) - "you're gonna have to do better than that, cunt. i've been doing this too fuckin' long to give a shit about fuckwits who throw as badly as you."


he even brought this young punk


into the band to liven things up, a stalwart, youthful rock monster, who, slimmer and sexier now fronts his own vaunted melbourne rock behemoth, the pictures.

personally, i want a sniff of *this* tim ...


and for the crowd to embrace this stirling new band room (booked by the same lovelies who book the corner, the northcote social club, and the spanish club) by getting into a bit of this


i don't give a shit if he can't hit the top note on berlin chair anymore, this fucking wasted poet and his posse of who-meets-big-star-in-a-duel-with-the-kinks rock monsters are still one of the best rock acts this country has, or ever will, produce(d).

THIS applecross wing commander wil be there with bells on.

Posted by reuben at May 9, 2006 8:46 PM


First, the obvious: pity the new single's so shit. Second, the agreement: greatest Australian band of the 90s. Probably beyond that.

I don't think any band is so tightly tied into my idea of my teenagerdom than You Am I, particularly two amazing all ages gigs including one at Planet Basement that it seems in the ensuing years that everybody was at. The other was in the Old Boans before it was apartments, I was over 18 but not too far over to feel bad about going to all agers. Amongst those gigs I'll never forget. Rogers once complimented me on my purple sneakers, and my arm is in the video for Trike.

Words that got me through til the mid twenties: As long as we throw up, everything will be fine.

Posted by: patrick at May 10, 2006 7:44 PM

i was at that boans gig, too – utterly amazing; blew jebs and powderfinger off the freakin stage, not that there was any doubt they would... seemed a best of of hi-fi and the early efforts from hourly. amazing. i even remember seeing them at BDO 94 (yup!) where they obviously rocked hard enough for soundgarden to take them on the badmotorfinger tour. what a double bill!

as long as we're emaciated, taste's outdated... yeah, everything'll be fine... though my favourite rogers simile is still "sky so heavy that it hangs like a beergut".

he IS the australian ray davies, and as long as i gaze on this east brunswick sunset, (for now), i am in paradise ...


Posted by: me at May 10, 2006 8:02 PM

Dig your site and your pics. Pardon the strange request..I am trying to get a line to Mr Tim Rogers somehow via email, snail mail or whatever...slim chance but if you can help with a contact somehow that doesn't upset anyone I'd be most greatful. I am not a fan, I'm a musician.

Regards, Sean.

Posted by: Sean Flynn at July 29, 2006 11:33 PM

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May 1, 2006

blind-sided on a monday


christ, here i was trawling through hundreds of frames, tryin' to look for something poignant of "my work" to show what i can do (and for who, anyway?) and, as is typically the way, i get waylaid by a time-machine in 6 x 4 gloss form, not even shot by me (obviously).

i haven't seen my argos in over a year ... true enough, i got him for his mum more than me, and it's well and right they should be together always, but god i miss moments like these. so much for not getting personal. i'd never had an animal in my house before him; i was 25 at the time. he'll be eight soon. this manic little ball of kelpie-staffy has given me so much happiness... in this pic, i must be about 27. i look so much more wiry than now; i don't recognise me at all. yesterday was an anniversary of sorts. five years since i lost my mind over an entirely different kind of friendship going nova.

i am too bittersweet maudlin to really write, but i'm raising my glass to friends old and deep-loved, and new and sweetly tentative recent beginnings; wherever you are, round the globe, in my city, across the treeless middle of the island - the trust i've been given i baulk at feeling worthy of sometimes. i just hope you know i'm trying ... i used to be better at being a friend myself; i think i was a good one, but i haven't felt like i could cut loose and shine someone up for so, so long. i want it back, to feel effortless at it.

i wanna squeeze you all in the honest, unselfconscious way i'm squishing my boy here. you know who you are.

belly rubs all round...

Posted by reuben at May 1, 2006 11:26 PM


argos is beautiful. look his face! I was in the same mood last night. couldn't pick what was wrong. then i realised. fucking nothing. shit comes together eventually. you just hope you haven't offended too many people along the way. i know your posse of ranty, indie, lit-type boys here all love you megafold. i'm awful fond of you too. see you in july. x

Posted by: linda at May 3, 2006 1:02 AM

what a little sweetie. you AND the mutt xxx

Posted by: fluffy at May 3, 2006 9:07 PM

s'why i was loving wee zippy up so much the other night. i miss my little mad lad...

Posted by: reuben at May 3, 2006 10:24 PM

Zippy will grudgingly submit to your attentions on any coolish wintery night of your choosing. Bring a bottle of red; he likes that.

Posted by: fluffy at May 9, 2006 9:29 PM

ahhh, ruby.
our boy. he is just the same, a little grey around the muzzle, but still the mad lad. i just finished throwing the ball for him and his sister, rabbit. he sends you licks, and belly rubs, too. slobber slobber and meaningful stares. xxx.

Posted by: clunk at May 27, 2006 1:49 PM

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