Beatles vs Moses

8:02pm And Counting

Leaving Sydney was the biggest mistake I ever made. If I had of stayed, maybe now I would be dead.

Could Someone Please Pass Me The Brain Dictaphone

In between frequent bouts of despondency and anger, my brain seems to bombard me with a barrage of thoughts and ideas. This in itself not so much a problem, the problem is that they either come so thick and fast that i am unable to write them down before they are lost in the ether or they come at a time when i am unable to record them at all.

If only someone would invent a brain dictaphone that i could just plug directly into my brain so when I feel these storm of ideas approaching I could just switch it on and prepare to expand on the stuff that comes through, happily knowing that it would all be recorded for future reference.

I've always seen my path as that of a writer. I mean, I've walked down many career paths over the years and either failed or grown bored with each one. The problem is that I write without rhyme or reason, without continuity or structure. I can never seem to finish anything. I mean, I have written volumes of crappy angst ridden poetry, heaps of half finished novels and a multitude of manifestos and opinion pieces, but i seem to lack the ability to combine these efforts into some sort of organised publishable work.

I can see no solution to this problem. Many years ago a friend said to me that if I ever wrote anything, she would happily be my editor. Maybe that's what I need. A third person to peruse through the pages and pages of disjointed musings in order to form one cumulative work or maybe I am destined to suffer the curse of many other past writers. That is, for my works to be discovered, published, then studied hundreds of years after my death.

Bass and Painters

Been playing heaps of bass lately. listening to lots of fat, chunky rock. Went to the gym today for the first time in 3 months and busted myself. May go back tomorrow. Off the smokes again, going well. Reading about philosophical aspects of distraction. Came across this quip. Urban legend? Who knows, i think its cool -


Lady: I've never seen a women like that.
Matisse: Madam, that is not a women;it is a painting.

Shit Musings

"To survive in reality you need a dream kept handy,
Where money is nothing and cigarettes taste like candy."



Stop! Hammer Time

A Few Wrods About A Book Full Of Words (with apologies to the book reviewing genre)

The first thing that struck me about "Hater" by David Moody was the title is based on a human emotion as was his last name. I thought this was kinda cool, but unfortunately none of these feelings were to proceed through the actual reading of this book

The story begins with a short account of a seemingly normal person snapping and brutally killing someone, described in intricate detail. We are then introduced to the boring and mundane life of Danny. He is a desk jockey at the local council who hates his job and equally his boss. He has a wife and kids, who although he continually says he loves, also seems to hate. The other central character of this tale is Danny's father-in-law who, surprise surprise, he also hates.

The book is set out in small chapters, sectioned of into days over a week long period. The pretense is that people start randomly going ape shit and killing people, until it escalates into a country, maybe world wide phenomenon. The violence is graphic and unimaginative. (The "picks up brick and smashes face variety. No quirky or funny slayings here a la Tarantino). The violence get worse and eventually everyone has to hole themselves up in there homes, giving the book a "Dawn of the Dead" feel, but without the mall, the zombies, or the fun.

Predictably enough, Danny becomes a "hater" and sees the world from the other side of the fence. The story then ends in an unbelievable clash of explosions and senseless violence, only to peter out into a couldn't be bothered writing anymore type ending of the "Then they were zombies" variety of internet fame. The book had so much potential but even after repeated attempts to get there it just never made it.

Mr Moody, you may share the last name of the super-cool fictional author of "Californication fame, but you obviously don't share his talent. But, if you do happen to read this, please don't go all crazy on me and smash my head in with a brick....

I give "Haters" by David Moody 2 out of 5 unruly mobs.

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On a totally unrelated note, I stumbled across "Adolf Plays The Jazz" the other day. Great synthed out, slow metal. Oh, and for closet Nazi's and jazz fans, their album contains reference to neither. Check out "Lush"