This week it’s disco funk with theme of Music to listen to while roller skating on the rings of Jupiter.
This week it’s disco funk with theme of Music to listen to while roller skating on the rings of Jupiter.
I don’t normally, but this time I really had to.
I had to bring insulin to my diabetic girlfriend who was stuck at work.
So I made the train trip to the city and took an extra-long way around to avoid the clusters of people on weekend strolls to nowhere. I finally made it to the riverside shopping complex.
After a long time of being disorientated and hypnotized by bright lights and closing down sales, I managed to find the right store and gave her life saving insulin. I left and entered the food court and decided to get coffee as a reward for my bravery.
I had a good look at the options available and decided to buy coffee from the cafe with the saddest staff. I wanted someone on verge of a breakdown. I imagined my order of coffee to be the last straw and he would slowly, silently weep into my cappuccino.
The sadder the staff – the better the coffee.
I waited behind a woman, already making her order and I stood back as to leave a space for people to scurry by with their shopping objectives. I do this to be out of people’s way. It is the very least I could do to help this whole existence thing, move along a little easier. Leaving this gap was a mistake as a large man walked by with his collar up and girlfriend under his arm. He twisted his body in abnormal positions to make sure people can see his fine new accessory.
“Now…” he thought to himself “They will not question my sexuality! Now I am one of them!”
He came back and placed himself in my well-meaning gap. He turned to me and winked and said. “You snooze you lose mate!” And then chuckled at how clever he felt.
“Now…” he thought to himself. “They know who the big man around here is!”
He then began to make out with his girlfriend and the whole time was turning back at me, watching for a reaction. Making sure I was witnessing this spectacle. His eyes widened and refused to blink. The sucking and the muffled grunting only “enhanced” my viewing pleasure. This could have gone on for another year but the coffee man had no time for this and was ready to take his order.
He placed his order and payed for the overpriced coffee with a plastic card. This made him feel like a spaceman. The man told him to wait on the right. So he took his girlfriend and they hung together at the end of the counter waiting for how I would react to this magnificent performance.
“One Cappuccino…Large…one sugar…thanks.” I said.
The man at the counter leaned in looked at the guy and said to me “I saw the way they guy pushed in front of you. You should have said something.”
I told him it was OK. As this was probably the highlight of his existence.
I woke up at 3am to the muffled sounds of some terrible song being played at annoying volumes by the woman down stairs. I couldn’t place the tune, but it’s safe to say it didn’t sound like something that should be repeated or publicly broadcasted at 3am. What made this worse was the woman was screaming and smashing into walls like she was being attacked. Tess and I got up with the cat and we stood pensive at the danger outside. The smashing seemed to be furious as she took to the drive way of the apartments we live. I’m a naturally anxious person and this was going to hinder my ability to go back to sleep. So I decided to watch a documentary about Hitler’s Will. Who would have though he had a will, but there you go he had two. I know this because I watched this documentary with the ambient sounds of crazed chaos smashing around down stairs. There was nothing much we could do.
I’ve only ever talked to the woman downstairs twice. Both times, she invited herself in late at night, asking for help with a password in to unlock her phone. I told her I wasn’t a licensed phone dealer – she mistook this response as, “Please tell me your life story and switch between extreme emotions as you go.” She seemed pretty paranoid and delusional, believing the police had broken into her house and placed recording equipment in her carpet and in her car, as a physiological experiment to access information to see how she would react to being constantly monitored. To me it sounded like a terrible pitch for a new reality TV show, but I guess any bad idea is possible. Although it’s sad that people with mental illness are clearly not helped in this country. It just seemed too much of a movie of the week story. It was peppered with strange movie of the week cliches and random names of people she assumed we should have already know. Since this meeting I never spoke to her but have heard her howling to the junkie up stairs to give back her water bottle. I don’t think she ever got that water bottle back.
The next day I took out the rubbish and as I walked to the bins I noticed she had thrown all her furniture onto the drive way including the ripped up carpet. She was sitting by the window with her head in her hands with her door open. She noticed as I walked past and yelled out something like “I bet you are happy I’m getting kicked out!” I honestly couldn’t hear what she said as we live near a busy road. I had to reply with a very sleep deprived “what?”. She puffs herself up and screeched “What’s the matter can’t you fucking hear when someone’s talking to you?!” There is nothing like a free lecture on the importance of good conversational skills while we are both knee deep in her broken furniture and “bugged” carpet. Again I had to repeat my “what?” to try and gain some clarity. She then changed her passive aggressive stance and told me I could have anything on the driveway because she now plans to live in her car. I had to tell her I didn’t need any of her broken stuff. She then blocked my way back in and started ranting how it’s time to make fresh starts, time to abandon the old and start new again because she’s sick of the old. It was then I remembered a quote from the old pinball machine Rippley’s Believe it or not and without thinking I found myself repeating one of it’s lines, “No matter where you go, there you are.” This seemed to put her into a trance for a bit while she thought it over, giving me enough for me to sneak past and get back to the safety of a closed door and a working set of headphones. Who would have thought a licensed pinball machine could be so profound all these years later.
On one of my rare occurrences of breaking the gaze between the computer screen and my own sore tired eyes. I decided to leave the house. I had just finished reading a book about David Bowie and how he used to play Kraftwerk Radioactivity before his Ziggy Stardust concerts. I thought it would be a good thing to listen to the sounds of Kraftwerk on my journey through the suburbs. Listening to Kraftwerk is most certainly the soundtrack for the day when the machines rise up and enslave us all. So putting these robotic pulses between my ears already made the walk a nervous one. After some walking I noticed up ahead a man shuffling with worse posture then my own. He was shuffling along with his arms folded and his head so far down that his hair looked like it had decided this was its chance to rally together and escape this man’s skull. Slinking down like dirty ladders of sadness.
He shuffled on some more and then for no clear reason came to a stop. He had completely ceased to move. He just stayed in the position his last step left him. Only his hair was swaying subtly in the wind, still trying to escape. There he stayed the whole time it took for me to reach the same point he was standing. I thought he might turn to me and say he’s had a bad day or he was out of milk and just couldn’t deal with returning home to a milkless home anymore but he said nothing. I walked past him and he remained perfectly still and remained in position. He had given up. He had shut down and wasn’t interested in any new updates.
The next day I was expecting to see him still standing there but he was now gone. The odd thing was he shut down right in front of an army barracks. Good I thought. The army must have him now. Then I thought this must be how they recruit people, just like a car breaking down in front of a mechanics garage. Sometimes you are in the right place to break down. Especially while Kraftwerk is playing in your head.
1. I spend a lot of time looking at the ground. I am never looking ahead. I wear very boring shoes that do not have laces. I am like my shoes. Boring.
2. One time I crossed a pedestrian crossing even though the light was red. I crossed because I believed there to be no danger to crossing the road. A man and his son witnessed this and he pointed out to his son that I was in fact stupid for making this decision. That boy is well on his way to being a judgmental asshole. Just like his dad.
3. When ever I go out walking. I am always being over taken by others. Sometimes I feel I am taking part in some kind of foot race that I can never win. I assume these people want to give the impression that they have somewhere to go. I instantly assume that they do not.
4. Whenever I am in a crowded room there is a good chance someone hates that I am in that room with them. They stare at me and burn a hole in the back of my head. The only way I counter this is to drink over priced coffee and listen to music of the 70′s.
5. Public transport is one of the few places where it’s socially acceptable to stare at people but unacceptable to stare back.
6. I don’t like going anywhere without music playing in my ears. It blocks out the crying of a dying world.
7. I always laugh out loud when I see an average person with a modern hair style. I feel it’s desperate attempt at individuality. An individuality that still swims between the flags of what is considered normal.
8. When ever a large group of people move in a herd formation you will see no less then seven people execute their dominance to be ahead of the rest. These people have instantly tagged themselves as the most insecure of the herd.
9. Those that play by the rules limit themselves to endless possibilities and outcomes. Those who follow rules must also must submit that there must be winners and losers. A whole life can be wasted pretending you are a winner. This seems even more difficult if you limit yourself to a set of rules.
10. If I had to choose between a life time of confidence laced with delusion over my already anxious existence. I would always choose to be in the middle of the two extremes. Just to remain well liked and popular among the same.
Once upon a time in the mid Eighties my parents brought home our first VHS recorder. I think it was Panasonic and it was a giant grey brick with sharp edges that would cut you if you tried to move it. It was the bad ass of electronic devices. So bad ass was it my father had to build some custom shelves just to harness it great vastness. This addition to the television freed us from regular scheduled programming with the amazing feature of taping off free to air TV. This great event in my life, mysteriously coincided with the Australian premiere of the return of the Jedi being played on Channel 10. This began pain staking skill of taping a movie off TV and being quick with pause button to not include the commercials. As my VHS recording skills grew so did out home made video collection. Complete with home made covers that tried to resemble the ones in the video store. Most weekends were spent watching the complete star wars trilogy, followed by Raiders of the lost ark and sometimes we mixed it up with the classic back to the future or teen wolf. I don’t think I ever watched these movies in one sitting. I would feel too inspired by the amazing visuals to sit still and was inspired to recreate my favorite scenes out of Lego or the limited star wars action figures I had around. My brother and I once even tried to recreate the cave from Raiders of the Lost Ark behind Dad’s shed by scattering dried leaves and sticking dangerous pieces of wood around as traps. We would have probably made a giant boulder to run from if my dad didn’t put a stop to this nonsense. These movies jump started my imagination and made me fall in love with action movie genre and pretty much cinema in general.
Since this golden age of VHS piracy and dangerous scene reenactments, things have certainly changed far greater then any of us ever believed possible. Even these movies that I must have watched hundreds of times, have been taken back, updated and re-released. Turned into special additions or spat out into this highest definition nonsense. Much to the disappointment to those who cherished the movies they originally saw. I understand George’s idea that he now had the technology to fix the movies of all the bad effects and little mistakes but it was these elements that added to the charm of the film. It in no way broke the spell of the movie and to me it made it seem more realistic. I guess he just believed that these movies were never truly finished but that was a long time ago in a galaxy far far away. We have all grown up and changed. Lucas is no longer the up and coming independent film maker with a sci-fi story that no studio wanted to support. He has now become the head of a successful movie and effects company with a giant toy franchise. It would be amazing to look back on any body of work the same way you did twenty years ago. The worst crime he did to those movies was to steal the magic from them. Instead of watching the film for it’s story you are watching and cringing at all the changes and added random cgi shit. I like most people never liked the remakes and searched the internet for original version before these horrible these edits were added but in some ways I can understand he wanted a chance to show his vision, the way he always wanted to show it. I just think maybe that vision got mutated a long the way.
When the prequels came out I just didn’t get it at all. The hype for those movies were completely over the top and it just seemed impossible that these movies could ever be bad or live up to the standards we all held. Looking back on the movies now they are not terrible, they just feel disconnected from the Star Wars we were familiar with. The original look of the movies were awesome, the cities and ships were made out of trash. The whole thing was like a western in space. More importantly all three original movies had a begging, middle and end. Each section was always on a new planet or in space. This kept a great balance and never made it boring. The prequels also made the mistake with way to much origins for characters I think should have remained a mystery. No character represents this more then Boba Fett. He was always my favorite and all you needed to know he was a bad ass bounty hunter who is good enough to be hired by the empire. Seeing him as a kid and the whole clone army based on his dad was just too much of a back story for me to get my head around. If this was after the clone wars, why would he still dress like a clone wars solider? I guess I could sit here all day with my own personal opinion of the prequels but these movies have been picked apart a million times. Sometimes you just need to remind yourself that it’s just entertainment.
The core of both Star Wars and Indiana Jones was in a way a return to the old adventure of the Flash Gordon series. Those movies seem so dated now but they are still highly entertaining. Maybe we have become to cynical and can no longer just enjoy a film without being bogged down by how believable it is. We live an era now where anyone can be an online critic regardless of age or any type of knowledge or experience. In some ways it ruins the ability to enjoy a movie when we spend most of the time trying to find fault and broadcasting it to a bunch of strangers. It’s like knowing the magicians trick and missing out on being mystified by the performance. We have become so overly critical it’s almost a terrible reflection of our culture. You can pick any random Youtube video and read the first ten comments, which are normally really hateful vile attacks against people whoa are just trying to express themselves. Even on videos that are quite clever there seems to be people who feel the need to go against popular opinion in the most nastiest way. I think Bukowski put it best in his poem “The Genius of the crowd”. My favorite line is
“…but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect”
Wise words from a drunken womanizer.
Some times we need to take a step back and really look at our actions and wonder if they are really helping to change things for the better or worse.
I look forward to the new Star Wars film coming next year. The universe that Lucas laid down the foundation for is vast enough to spawn so many great stories and hopefully it will spawn a new golden era of highly imaginative story telling and I plan to keep an open mind when I finally get to see it.
A few weeks back I headed out of my fortress of solitude for a gig I was on at. It was one of those low vibe nights were I noticed few people were walking the streets. I don’t know where all the people had gone but it wasn’t near this gig. It was getting close to show time and the room was pretty bare. This worried the organizer and he was debating canceling the night. I was more concerned with my stomach. I had ordered some pizza called El Diablo the night before, I was less concerned with it’s extra spicy toppings and basically just liked the name as it sounded bad ass. (A word to the indestructible youth. Eat all the shit food now while your body can still digest it. As soon as you hit thirty there are consequences for bad food choices. ) I was now paying the price for my impulsive pizza as the ever increasing pain flooded my torso. It felt like I needed a priest to extract this El Diablo raging in my stomach. Suddenly out of nowhere the room started filling up. So it looked like the show was back on and I put my hand up to get on first, get the spot over with and then walk the streets in search of a priest or a witch doctor that bulk bills. The MC kicked the night off and I waited outside in the alleyway to try and subside the pain and let it fuel some kind of comedy gold from my speech hole. It was at this point a few dudes who were there to see the show were sparking up in the shadows. I started to pace, not out of nervousness for the gig, but for trying to deal with this evil within. These guys finished their sparking ritual and come out of the shadows. One of the dudes who I assumed was straight from the cool streets of new york came up to me and asked if I was on. “Yeah,” I said “On in about a minute,” He looked at me and thought I was someone who needed some advice. “You know what man, don’t do long stories, Just do quick jokes man. I’ve seen comics do long stories and it puts me to sleep. Just do quick jokes bam…bam…bam!” At this point i wasn’t sure if this guy had seen me before and was requesting me not to repeat my style.
“Yeah but that’s what i was going to do. All I do is true stories that are strange but that’s why I think they are funny. I litter them with jokes but it’s still a story.”
“Nah man, fuck that” he said. “Just do your short jokes!”
“But I don’t even have that.” I said.
I turned to his friend for support. He already looked half asleep but was judging this whole situation. I can tell he was at a crossroad. Do I agree with my friend or go against the grain? He choose to play it safe and said “I don’t give a fuck as long as it’s funny.”
It was about then i was introduced on stage. I chose, due to the size of the room and audience, to use no mic. It’s something I’ve seen better comics do and it always raises the intimacy between you and the audience. After a little shaky start I tried to push down the pain and get on with the story and took off in full flight. It was material I’ve done many times but it’s a story I always have fun playing around with and can always spend time building up characters and dialogue. I was in that zone where I was in control, and they were with me on the story. I reached the end, thanked the crowd and walked straight out the door and into the alleyway again. The New York dude followed me out in to the street and raised his hand for some elaborate high five in appreciation of my set.
“Man, that was well wicked. See you had nothing to worry about,” he said while we connected fists and palms.
“Hey thanks, yeah i think it went OK a bit shaky to start with.” I said as I felt the pain return to my stomach.
“I know you don’t want to admit it but I think my advice really helped you.” he said this in all seriousness. I felt down graded like this story that i’ve worked on for years, had now been reduced to working only because of some bad advice from some random in an alleyway. I wanted to start ranting about how comedy takes time and is born out of failure. That loose ideas get tried and tested and then become connected like Lego bricks until you get something truly funny and unique that represents you, but I didn’t say this. This guy seemed to be assured of himself. I doubt he’s ever been told he was ever wrong or ill equipped to have an opinion on a subject he had no experience in. I could set up a clear power point presentation with an easily readable pie chart and still this guy wouldn’t admit to being wrong. I just thanked him and walked out into the darkness of the alleyway hoping that the El Diablo in my stomach wouldn’t devour me whole.
I am an extremely anxious person. I think I come from a long line of people who have been threatened at some point and had to run away from certain danger. This is why I constantly feel on edge, tense and the feeling like a crazed panther is going to pounce on me at any moment. It affects me in all aspects of my day. It seem to hinders me as a human being and it stops me from leaving the house as it is difficult for me to be in public places where panthers can attack.
There is very little time I feel like I have relief from this feeling even in my sleep. Which you would think would be a peaceful time to recharge for all the anxious moments ahead of me but unfortunately this is never the case. For it’s in my dreams I am constantly being chased or hunted by all sorts of creatures that would make even Tim Burton question what the hell is that?!? The lingering feeling after I awake and finally understand that it was all a dream and I have been tricked by own brain is a horrible feeling. Even thought it was a dream I always feel I’ve been through an ordeal of some sort.
Dreams have been linked to our past given us a survival instinct. When we used to live in the wilderness and the sun went down there were lots of animals that threatened our existence. Dreams in some ways created scenarios in which we would be prepared to run and live to fight another day. Although now in a modern world I’m more afraid of the rise of utility bills and strange men with no teeth on public transport. I have no idea why my body can’t just give me a good night’s sleep. All I need is just a short break from this feeling of approaching doom.
I guess in some way there is a reason I’ve been designed with out of proportion body structure. These long legs were designed so my people can run away from danger. Although after thirty three years of walking the earth I can’t think of a situation where I had to run from anything. Maybe a bus I ran for three steps and then reminded myself there will be another and I don’t really have to be anywhere. I’ve always managed to talk my way out of danger no thanks to any preparation from any past dreams from the night before.
Why can’t I just have a nice dream where I’m on a unicorn shooting lasers at incoming docile cake bats? Or flying over mountain peaks made out of chocolate ice magic. Then again what would this be preparing me for? A life time of insanity i suspect.
Dreams need to have some kind channel changing device.
Or I might need a new brain.
Either way good night.
I remember very little about being a kid. Mainly just the general stuff like toys that could take your eye out, school holidays that felt like several lifetimes and Transformers that were robots in disguise. What I remember most, was being quite terrified of what was broadcast as children’s television. That was more than scary – this is the kind terror that shuts down basic motor skills as you are forced in horror to watch on without any escape. Maybe a good preparation for adult life.
I think the images that scared me the most was on Sesame Street, of all places. Normally it was a show that anyone could watch and be entertained and informed by at any age. This was different, it wasn’t entertaining. It wasn’t informative. It was just scary. I’m talking about the Disco Frog. A groovy disco song, sung by Kermit, who has obviously gone back to his swampy roots to summon this foul creature. What dances out of the darkness of this creepy Lynch like swamp is a spooky, translucent ghost of Kermit, with arms flailing like it’s experiencing some kind of disco seizure. Kermit seems pretty ok about a ghost version of himself dancing around, while the backup singers around Kermit are baa-ing which makes it feel like it some kind of satanic disco cult and it scared the shit out of me.
Why did Henson make this? Someone who is responsible for such great pieces of family friendly fun all of a sudden makes a dark video for a disco hit. It ruined my whole Sesame Street experience! I was traumatized by it! I feared watching the show in case they ever replayed this horrible clip. The terror went even further into my own dark hallucination night terrors where the Disco Frog left his swamp and found where I lived just to dance over me while I hid underneath the covers drenched in fear. The kind of fear that this disco frog ghost fed on. He fed on the fear of small children who preferred alternative college rock. To this day it’s still a little unsettling and after reading the YouTube comments, I’m glad that I am not alone.
Another image that has troubled me so much, I still have a constant fear of drowning in water. Was from the horrible Star Wars spin of Caravan of Courage – an Ewok adventure. How this movie turned out as bad as it was, is a mystery. When you are using great elements like the Star Wars Universe and the cute and cuddly Ewoks. It’s amazing Lucas managed to get it so wrong. Even the Ewoks looked a bit shit, like somebody went to a costume shop, asked for an Ewok outfit and they only had a cheap knock-off made by a junior primary preschoolers, out of pipe cleaners.
The scene I remember most is when the boy sticks his hand into a pool of water (as we all do), somehow falls in the very small fish pond and now can’t seem to get out because the pond is some kind of Lucas magic that prevents from getting out. This is horrible and helps the story progress in no way. The Ewoks throw a rope in, but that just disappears – probably because they just threw rope into the pond without even tying it to anything sturdy. Then they get a big branch, once again the pond uses it’s mystical Lucas magic of no reason and makes the branch disappear. All the time we are holding our breath so we can get the full interactive drowning experience. Suddenly Wickit is reminded of some stick the magic man gave him. He agrees and they manage to save the boy from a very stupidly written scene.
(if you are playing at home it’s about 11:10 in this video)
I’m not saying that this is cause of all my problems but it’s certainly one of the seeds. A terrible disco Muppet seed.
ThunderCats was one of my favourite cartoon shows in the late ’80’s. Having slightly missed out on He-Man – ThunderCats was more a show I watched from the beginning and became a great fan of. It’s been a while since I have seen the show, my love for nostalgia and basically refusing to grow up has led me to re-watch the series again – starting with the first episode S01E01, “Exodus”, which first aired January 23rd 1985. I was 5.
Pilot Episode “Exodus”.
The first thing about ThunderCats that is awesome is the title sequence. It’s fast and furious and shows you the main characters and their abilities. It also introduces Lion-O’s magic sword that he uses like the Bat Signal, to let his friends know where they can kick some ass.
It shows Tygra with his magical blue whip and the ability fly when Panthro flips out and tries to run him down with the ThunderTank. Before jumping out of a moving vehicle, he reveals his nun-chucks (which is awesome). It then shows Cheetara using her super speed and circus tricks to avoid any enemies. Then it shows Wily Kit and Wily Kat throwing home-made bombs like the annoying pricks they are. Before everyone back-flips home to the ThunderCats Lair where the ghost of Jaga tries to steal the show. It then shows you the evil Mumm-Ra pulling a similar trick to the emperor in Star Wars -pretending to be all feeble, then revealing the Death Star is fully operational! Mumm-Ra changes into the Lizard King and shoots lasers from his palm. Luckily Lion-O can pull some old fashioned break dancing moves and reflect the lasers back. So we can finally watch the episode. After one minute and fourteen seconds the title sequence was too much and I had to have a juice box and a lie down.
The first thing you notice at the start of this episode is – Jaga isn’t a ghost yet and the ThunderCats are naked. Yes, this happened. Also Lion-O is a little kid but everyone else is the same, but naked. Jaga calls the young, naked Lion-O and asks him to watch the giant screen. The screen shows their home planet Thundera explode. Jaga explains they are the remaining ThunderCats, and are there to teach Lion-O how to grow to be a great leader. Lion-O seems to be shocked like he’s heard this news for the first time but seems to move on pretty quickly about the whole ‘home world no longer exists’ as soon as he learns about the Sword of Omens. We learn young Lion-O is piss weak and can’t even hold the sword that is supposed to be the source of all ThunderCats power.
Jaga at this point explains their nakedness and says that on their home planet you didn’t need protective clothing. Pretty rich coming from a naked man in a cape. Jaga prepares them for their new home and hangs out some random red shit that clothes the ThunderCats in their more uniformed outfits. But this is no time to start strutting in their new threads; for the ThunderCats are already under attack. The ThunderCats rush to the battle stations while Lion-O is told to stay safe. Lion O claims he doesn’t like safe for it is too boring.
The ThunderCats learn they are under attack by some Mutants from the planet Plundarr. Panthro shows no tolerance for blasted Mutants (clearly racist). They try to fight back but by the sound of their one gun turret, it’s too shit to do anything. The Convoy protecting the ThunderCats’ ship are all destroyed, except luckily, for the one our heroes are on. We then learn that the Mutants are attacking because they want the eye of Thundera which is attached to the Sword of Omens.
The Mutants come on board and the Thundercats take care of things, while dishing out some witty remarks. Meanwhile, two Mutants find Lion-O trying to hold onto the infamous Sword of Omens. The Mutants laugh at his -7 abilities and strange dress sense. It’s at this point the Sword comes to life and makes a huge ThunderCats logo. The Mutants become afraid of how stupid the situation is and back away and return to their ship.
After this happens, the ThunderCats return to the aid of Lion-O. Panthro assess the damage and determined they need to land on the nearest planet that could sustain their ThunderCat ways. The nearest planet is a few life years away so they all decide to use the suspension capsules to have a sleep till they get there. Jaga tells everyone he’s too old for that shit and says he’ll take it from here while the other cats have a sleep. We then see Jaga at the helm of the ship pass away due to malnutrition just before he realises there was an auto pilot button all along. Like any great cartoon death Jaga turns into custard cloud of ghost dust and his clothes fall to the floor.
The ThunderCat Ship crashes onto a strange new planet. Lion-O awakens no longer a boy but a man, with the voice of a hero. Lion-O in his new grown up body, seems pretty concerned about the size of his hands. Just in case you can’t tell it’s Lion-O, the ghost of Jaga chimes in, explaining that Lion-O has aged. Once again Lion-O seems pretty cool that his home planet was obliterated, Jaga is dead and he’s missed the last 15 years of his life. Lion-O doesn’t have time for that shit, as the Mutant’s ship flies overhead.
The Mutants must have forgotten what happened last time they tried to get the eye of Thundera, as they once again search the now wrecked ThunderCats spaceship. They discover the other ThunderCats are still in their capsules and start axing the capsules like vampires before they wake up. Lion-O springs into action and tells them to “Stop!” He then proceeds to take on a gang of Mutants, unarmed. His sacred Sword gets thrown to him, shocking him into becoming the leader of the ThunderCats. For some reason, the Mutants give Lion-O plenty of time to examine his new weapon and time to remember that this Sword is pretty important to almost every ThunderCats plot line. Once again the ghost of Jaga has to appear, to explain things to the very dense Lion-O. Jaga explains he will always be there to help Lion-O, while his tone suggests he was looking forward to retirement and has better things to do. Lion-O uses the Sword’s ‘sight beyond sight’ to learn the obvious, that the capsules are filled with his friends. Lion-O awakens them with the glow of their corporate logo and they all jump into battle and save the day.
Everyone seems to be pretty happy about how the day went. No one seems to care Jaga is dead. Lion-O takes the opportunity to lead the ThunderCats and boost morale with another dazzling display of their corporate logo. He also adds “with a little help from my friends” referencing his love for the Beatles and they all lived happily ever after.
The author of this piece refuses to acknowledge the existence of Snarf.
This dream began like most of my dreams – back at my old high school. I was walking up the drive to the school and saw teachers smoking on the lawn in deck chairs. They all turned and looked at me, sniggered and said “back for another try are you?” It felt as though I might have done this before. I felt ashamed and looked down at my feet and saw I wasn’t wearing socks and my right shoe was on backwards. I tried to turn it round to the front but it kept turning back.
The bell rang and was I told to head into the office. As I walked in I saw this old teacher that hated me and it appeared now, he was the principal of the school. He led me into a room where there was a giant screen and a super Nintendo game controller. He sat me down and said “you can finish a lot of games but this year I have something a little different.” He started a game that was a little like Super Mario World. I was shown a level map where there was something like one hundred levels. “This will take me forever!” I said. “Well you better start playing” he snarled and then left the room.
Then one of the office staff put a note on the glass of the door I came through, it said something like “he is trying to stall you.” I then noticed a green gas coming from under the door. I picked up my chair and threw it into the wall, smashing through in my panic. I made it to the courtyard and noticed everyone running in terror. The gas was transforming them into crazed baboons that were foaming at the mouth.
The place was alight with panic and somehow I managed to avoid being attacked and ran down the hill back to my parent’s old house. I managed to get into the roof and hide out there for the time being. My mother started hitting the roof with a broom trying to get me to come down. I told her that the school had send wild baboons to kill me. My mum said, “Don’t be so stupid and to come down and set the VCR to record The Bill for me!”
I came down from the roof and noticed the floor was all dark mud. I thought, “Geez they need to get some carpet on that.” I tried to avoid the mud and made myself a sandwich in the kitchen.
Then I woke up.
I think this is a good sign to never go back to school.
I live near a school. A busy main road divides my place from the school and a little bit to the right is a pedestrian crossing guarded my this strange Lollipop man. Now this guy appears to be a gentle giant. Large in stature with bad posture (worse then my own) but I have noticed a strange sense of darkness that I thought was just in my head.
For the past few years I have never needed the service he is supplying. I am a reasonably intelligent mammal and after years of growing up watching hyper coloured Mc Donald adverts about Crossing the road safely in the 90?s. I have now developed a very powerful system of gauging how safe it is to cross the road. So far I have had no accidents but regardless of my clean record I have been the victim of stink eye by the lollipop man for not heading to his safety.
Last week I thought I would chuck him a bone. He was just sitting there not doing much so I went out of my way to make him feel like his job more fulfilling. I waited patiently at the zebra crossing. He saw me and blew his little whistle. The traffic stopped in obeying his big red stop sign and I crossed the road. I don’t know what I was expecting from him. Maybe a “Hey thanks! thanks for letting me do what I do best,” or “Hey your a great guy, stopping traffic for you is the highlight of my job career so far!” instead I got a deep sad stare as he slowly shook his head and I’m not telepathic but I kind of read his thoughts that were saying “you don’t really mean this, don’t patronize me.”
Since then I’ve kind of stayed away from him. Until the other day I was coming back from a walk when I walked up behind him. It was a little before school was finishing and he was setting up his sign and mentally preparing himself for the job ahead. He didn’t notice I was behind him and he picked up his stop sign and held it like a gun. Pointed it at the distant school and began to shout bang! followed by a little chuckle. It was then he noticed I was behind him. I thought wow this is pretty extreme how is he going to cover this up. Which I assume is how you would respond when caught doing something pretty evil even if it is pretend. What is terrifying is he was completely unfazed and he went right back to shooting imaginary enemies with his imaginary stop sign. Chuckling all the way. He then turned to me and said “Ha! I missed that last one,” Which I thought was quite honest when he was shooting things I couldn’t see but still thought he should own up to his inability to get every one. I knew I had to get out of there and I didn’t wait for him to stop traffic I went home and was troubled by what I just saw. I turned on my computer watched an old episode of Thunder Cats and forgot the whole thing as best I could.
The past few weeks, my sleep patterns have changed to the point I now rarely sleep at night – which could be because of my tremendous anxiety, laced with random panic attacks. Or it could be because I have increased my coffee intake. Either way, I decided to keep a record of my hours while I’ve been kept awake and over thinking.
I wake, gasping for breath. As the fog of the last dream I was having about being strangled by strange Disney pirates with Pope hats on. I suddenly realise my passage ways are blocked by my cat laying across my face. She lays there till I spring up – fighting for breath, then leaps off my chest to remind me where the food is and why her bowl does not have this food. It’s a very clever plan.
I have already refilled the coffee that might have leaked out of me during the morning and sit down in front of the computer, giddy with new ideas and fun, creative ways to release the dark black tar inside of me and turn it into something refreshing to be nibbled on for general consumption.
Very little creativity has been released, but a lot of facebook updates have been read and properly shown that I quite rightly “like” that statement or picture of a cat doing human type things.
Silly internet cats!
Just watched a strange short doco about Pink Floyd that was only twenty two minutes long. I thought this was strange since some of their songs go for longer. They spent a good ten minutes talking about the difference between Whimsy Syd Barrett Pink Floyd and everything else Pink Floyd did without Syd. Dark Side of the Moon was covered for about 2 minutes and I learned it sold rather well. It led me to believe that everyone in the doco was held at gun point and had to unload all their Pink Floyd information in the quickest time possible. I must listen to Obscured By Clouds again.
Just listened to Obscured By Clouds and watched my screen saver generate images to the music.
I still cannot play guitar.
Thought of a great TV show idea, about a family pet in a small country town in Australia who helps solve mysteries and keeps local drunks from swearing too much. After some Googling I discovered Skippy the Bush Kangaroo has already trod this path many times before.
Started to watch “Why Charlie Brown Why?” the story of Linus who falls in love with a girl who disappears into hospital because of Cancer. Meanwhile snoopy is dancing on his dog house.
The cat is hungry again and she also wanted the heater on. I am my cat’s butler. I started reading an article on Wikipedia about Vincent Gallo which after a few link clicking got me onto a page about necrotizing fasciitis or as it it’s more commonly known as – flesh eating bacteria syndrome. It was at this point I realised there will be no sleep tonight.
It probably didn’t help that I just watched the 1980 slasher movie Maniac. From the same director as Maniac Cop. IMDB also tells me that the 80’s hit Maniac known from the film Flash Dance was originally written 1980 film of the same name sporting the lyrics about nailing dogs to doors. I think IMDB knows too much.
Started Googling images of cats stuck in cardboard boxes. I think this is proof there is still good in the world.
Just watched a documentary on YouTube about social anxiety. I now have diagnosed all my problems and relate to every one of the talking heads. I need to listen to more Talking Heads
I might have fallen asleep but a street sweeper went past with loud roaring that has lit up the house, like it’s a set in the X-Files. I don’t recall this feeling of paranoia in the documentary I just saw.
I have not had a bowl of cereal since I was a child. I should eat cereal again. Jerry Seinfield eats cereal. I should be more like Jerry.
I can hear kids outside being loud. Letting everyone know they are young and will more than likely outlive us all. I wish the street sweeper will come back. Its hum is soothing.
I just realised I never had a birthday party at a Pizza Hut when you could actually eat in the Hut. I feel like this is cause of lot things. Also I wish they still made thin crust pizza.
I feel quite jittery, but this doesn’t hinder a new day of liking the post of my social net of friendship. I have started Google image search for creepy mannequins.
I wish I didn’t start searching for pictures of creepy mannequins.
tried to force myself to sleep but for some reason, someone downstairs is playing How Bizarre at max volume.
The cat has falling asleep on my pillow. I am now using my cat as a pillow.
Music to fall asleep to when you can not sleep
Asleep In Perfection – AUGIE MARCH
Sleep -THE DANDY WARHOLS
Weird Fishes\ Arpeggi -RADIOHEAD
Ghost Town -THE SPECIALS
Stumbleine -SMASHING PUMPKINS
Good Feelings -VIOLENT FEMMES
All is Full of Love- BJORK
Sleeping With Ghosts -PLACEBO
Mother Earth- PRETTY VIOLET STAIN
The Garden -PJ HARVEY
Blame It on the Tetons -MODEST MOUSE
Apple Bed -SPARKLEHORSE
Lovesong- THE CURE
Farewell and Goodnight -THE SMASHING PUMPKINS
Welcome to the very first FRIDAY NASH UP’s…the mix tape suggestion for your weekend. Every week I will be taken suggestions and try to make the ultimate soundtrack for that theme. This week I theme is Music to Strut to.
Devil Inside -INXS
Young Girls are my Weakness -THE COMMODORES
Rock the House -GORILAZ
Superstition -STEVIE WONDER
Girls -IGGY POP
The Payback- -JAMES BROWN
We Don’t Walk -PAPER SCISSORS
Da Funk -DAFT PUNK
Take it Slow -MACHINE GUN FELLATIO
Beat it -MICHEAL JACKSON
Organ Donor -DJ SHADOW
I’m Left, You’re Right, She’s -GIORGIO MORODER
Nicotine and Gravy- BECK
Rocket Queen -GUN ‘N ROSES
if you have an suggestions for next friday…email them to firstname.lastname@example.org!
A strange fact about me is that my hair grows incredibly quickly. If I ever had my head shaven I am sure it would grow back in minutes. I think this is due to the lack of hair on my face, as if all my facial hair just decided to grow on the top of my head and does not want expand to greener pastures. Due to this horrible truth, I need to get my hair cut somewhat frequently. Something that I put off for a few months mainly due to sheer laziness, but also it’s a huge commitment to sit in a chair and not being able to do anything but look at myself. I have always hated this and always appreciate a hairdresser that likes to chat and distract me from the ageing face of death in the mirror before me. The barber shop I usually go to is pretty old-timely – which I like; it even features one of those old fashioned red, white and blue barber poles – which is most awesome. Every time I go in there I get someone new cutting my hair, but I always like when the old guy cuts my hair, as he seems to have a good understanding of pop culture and we can have a decent conversation. The conversation we had a few weeks back was certainly the most interesting.
As he began to cut my hair we started talking about favorite movies. I was surprised when he asked me, “Do you like The Bill Murray?”, “Yeah!” I said – I have always been a big fan of old Uncle Bill and appreciate anyone who puts (THE) in front of Bill Murray’s name .”I love his movie Groundhog Day,” said my curious barber “You know, if I had to live the same day in and day out, I would go crazy. Imagine coming in to work and cutting the same hair everyday, you would go crazy! But The Bill Murray, he makes me laugh” I agreed The Bill Murray made me laugh too. He also added “You know, I wanted to be a standup, you know, I cut the hair but I listen to the customer and have some funny stories I could tell! I even thought about writing a book called ‘Tales from a Barber Shop floor’” I loved this idea as I guess I never thought about how many heads this guy has seen and I’m sure he talked to many interesting people while cutting hair. “Yes!” I said “You should do that, the more comedy there is out there the better!”, “No!” he said, “I’m too old, I used to want to be the comedian like The Bill Murray but now, I just cut the hair. You can’t cut the hair all day and still have time to be the comedian!” I again agreed to this sad realization.
A young lady who was sweeping some hair joined in the conversation and said “You know which movie I liked by the Groundhog Day Man? I liked the movie where he dresses like a clown and robs a bank and the police they try and catch Bill Murray but he is too funny and they can not catch him!” This seem to frustrate my barber he shook his head and said “The Bill Murray was never the clown, he was the Ghostbuster, the caddy shack man but never the clown!” but the lady sweeping the hair disagreed “No!” she said “You know the movie, he is a clown, he is trying to run away but his shoes are too big, he can not run! It’s his shoes!” my barber shook his head and again told her “He was a Ghostbuster, A golfer man but never a clown Man!” I began to worry as he was holding a sharp object, luckily the lady she knew when to back down from The Bill Murray debate.
Things got a bit silent and then he asked me what I did for a job. Normally it should be noted I don’t tell strangers about performing standup. Firstly because it’s not really what I do to live, and second, its always followed by “Tell us a joke!”. which annoys me to the point of turning green and ripping my shirt as I yell “NASH SMASH!!!”, but I thought my barber was an interesting man and had a good understanding of humor. So I told him that I perform standup from time to time. His large, bushy eyebrows lifted his glasses off his head in response. “You perform the standup like The Bill Murray?” he said. “I’m not sure if Bill Murray is the best reference to standup but I guess he did to begin with!”, I said. He then asked me what was my stage name which I told him was Trav Nash. “No….No….No….! That name won’t do… Too American…The Bill Murray! THAT is a performer’s name!” he said “It’s all in the way you say it!” Which I guess could apply to anything. You call yourself Mothballs Vomit Factory and you could probably sell out Carnegie Hall as long as you said it with sass!
Then the haircut was over, I paid the man and said my thanks yous and goodbyes. Just as I was leaving, he said “If you ever meet The Bill Murray, tell him to come here and I will cut his hair for free!”, I told him I would, if I ever met The Bill Murray. “Good!” said the lady sweeping my stack of hair clippings, “Then I can ask him what clown movie he was in”
you wake up
you sleep walk out into the yawn of the morning
you clock in
and you work and you work and your work
then you stumble back home
you sit on the couch and you watch the glow
and you forget
only to wake up and repeat the process again
Somewhere out there
are the dreams that got away from me
sleeping in on weekdays
and never having to go out into the rain
to buy more cat food
With less then a month away till my preview show. I find myself returning to the lappy and begin again typing furiously away, with the fury of ten tigers. Returning to my old familiar style of a point system. I figure if I just plot out a path of subject matter and keep to it. I can still pull of a raw show that at the same time keeps me on the straight and narrow.
I learned yesterday it is unwise trying to write a show while listening to Nick Cave and the Cure. The subject matter turned so melancholy that even the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe considered far too depressing. I am glad my delete button still works on this old ancient machine. Instead I am have been re-reading Sam Kieths The MAXX (which is a huge influence on Mind Boat) and listening to a lot of Talking Heads. Sometimes it’s always good to give your soul a little refill and remind yourself that there are still amazing treasure yet to be discovered.
Work will begin today on the shows opening animation. Which will be time consuming but hopefully rewarding. Things are slowly but surely coming together.
Tickets are still available for TRAV NASH’s MIND BOAT
I can not do it!
I can not sit here staring blankly into my lappy screen. Fantasising that my droll will fall from the right side of my mouth and type out a great show. I can not do this! If you are that kind of comedian who can, well the ultra high fives and a meat trophy to you, with a good day too!
I need stage time to throw all common sense to the curve and blow out the idea till it explodes in my face and children cry so much the streets turn into a river of misery. When ever I sit down to write I feel like I am back in some high school writing out an assignment on the values of rainfall in east jungle world that was due in 3 weeks ago. What I am writing is boring and preachy…nobody wants this! I need the freedom for spontaneity that you just can not get writing something down. Otherwise it might as well be a live reading of a book that is in my mind and only available on Powells.com.
The Mind Boat is about taking you on a journey, celebrating the random, unpredictable twists that we experience in life. I feel my show needs to be just as unpredictable. So I am going to aim for as unscripted as possible. Grabbing the idea by the horns and running as far as it will run with me. Whether this will work, who knows? It will more likely sink like the titanic but as least there will be a tear jerking soundtrack…all boo hoo and what have you!
I should also add that there are no refunds.
Tickets for MIND BOAT are now on sale.
Take a chance!