Posted in Vidiot on Tue Jul 22, 11:23 pm. Shoutouts.

Fourteen Passive-Aggressive Appetizers from the New Yorker:

Vegetarian friends? Try veggie rumaki: wrap a strip of imitation bacon around a water chestnut, spear with a toothpick, and broil—but instead of imitation bacon use real bacon, and instead of a water chestnut use veal.

Posted in Linkage on Sat Jul 19, 08:01 pm. Shoutouts.

The Hollowmen is a new Rob Sitch comedy on the ABC that uncannily mirrors the world I have lowered myself into. You can watch each week’s episode online after it airs on Wednesday nights. Required viewing for those seeking to, or who already are, involved with the gub’ment.

Posted in Silverscreen on Fri Jul 18, 08:18 am. Shoutouts.

An early start and some ambitious packing got us to the Skitube just as the sun was pushing above the cloud-shrouded mountains, and to the snow not long after the first lifts opened. We spent the day tearing it up in blustery conditions and, not having goggles, every time I turned into the wind, the icy particles stung my eyes.

There had been a big dump of fresh powder overnight and the ridgeback at Blue Cow opened for the first time this season. As I hurtled down the run, the Field ringing in my ears, I thought about the feeling of freedom you get on a board. My theory is that it stems from being self-propelled and retaining the ability to think, “I want to go there“ and with a slight adjustment in posture to be able to, fast. I can’t think of any other sport that gives you this kind of flexibility, but I imagine flying would be similar.

It looks like it’s going to be a bumper season this year. This is good. If the addiction takes hold any more strongly, I may just have to buy a board. Also good.

In summary: snow is good and money, well, isn’t it the root of all evil? It make sense to minimise the evil around, right?

Posted in Locomotion on Mon Jul 14, 08:20 am. Shoutouts.

These photos by Dustin Humphrey combining underwater art installations with surf actions shots are incredible. More here.

Posted in Shutterbug on Thu Jul 10, 08:18 am. Shoutouts.

The Germans have quite taken the concept of the sausage as a snack and refined it to an art-form. These are not shrivelled sangers that have sat for hours, rotating in the rear of a stale display-cabinet. No, these are proud, bulky bratwurst, and they glisten with fat as the woman serving me drowns them in tomato sauce and finishes with a dusting of curry powder. She’s not done yet though, and she gestures at the board behind her and offers me the choice of additional sides: fries with mustard, fries with mayonnaise or either of the previous with beer. I feel my heart palpitating involuntarily as I consider the health ramifications. Fuck it, I’m on holiday, right?

I’m perched in the corner of a converted metro car hiked up on concrete blocks a few streets from the budget terminal of Berlin airport. I’m hiding from the biting minus-ten wind while I wait to see if Nick is on the next flight from Riga, or Budapest, or wherever. Email isn’t particularly easy to get your hands on in Eastern Europe and our method for meeting up in Berlin was as simple as “Meet you on Tuesday at the airport?”

Now, faced with the grim reality of being stuck in this car eating Currywurst until I die of a heart attack, I consider the downsides to our plan: we have not considered that Berlin may have several airports, I have no idea what city, or country, Nick is coming from and thus no idea what carrier or arrival time is to be expected, and our only means of contacting each other is by email. I order another beer.

I’m the only non-German in here, and I listen. My German is even worse than I expected – I’ve forgotten so much in the years since I spent my Saturdays vor die Schulbank. Painstakingly memorised tenses, cases and verb tables forgone for simple words. As I find out later, near everyone in the centre speaks English and there’s little chance to practice. I’d love to come back and spend a couple of months here: jumping from rural village to rural village. I think in future any European trips will be country by country rather than trying to fit an entire continent in a few short weeks, which is just madness.

A few hours later, when I’m camped on my pack in departures, and beginning to toy with the idea of scoping ahead for a hostel, Nick shows up and we run for the next bus to the Metro. It all feels so safe and normal that it’s easy to forget we’re on the other side of the world from when we last spoke. He tells me how he spent the previous night sleeping in a bus shelter, and I have to laugh when I imagine him suited up and entangled by the firm back in Perth.

It’s late, but the centre is brightly lit. A hint of ice in the corners of the windows, but not yet snowing, and above everything Alexanderplatz looms like some doomed vision of a constructionist future, one where architects learn by smashing huge geometric blocks into each other until they fit.

Posted in Travel on Mon Jul 7, 09:23 pm. Shoutouts.

Posted in Oz on Mon Jul 7, 07:50 am. Shoutouts.

I am eating a packet of mixed nuts and I have just noticed the warning on the back of packet, “WARNING: MAY CONTAIN TRACES OF NUTS.” Wow.

This afternoon, as I pedalled up the cycle lane of a major road, I noticed that someone had replaced the A’s on the bus shelters with penises. A stubby veined cock snuggled up to CTION. Admittedly, the public transport here isn’t the best, but our wannabe graffiti artist had obviously felt very strongly on the issue, as they’d put hairy balls on every A for about five kilometres.

Is Australia getting stupider, or is it just me?

Posted in Oz on Sun Jul 6, 07:55 pm. Shoutouts.

There is talk of seizing the day, yes, and of “throwing in for the team” but I’m not sure which deity they are expecting me to invoke to find those magic extra minutes.

So, then, this is not about seizing the day. This is about that five minute window between 3:24 and 3:29 every afternoon when the LCD spits phosphors at your face while the sun outside reflects off the fish-silver office buildings and the clouds sit high above.

Slip off the noose, children, and embrace that which should be yours. (mp3, 74mb)

Tracklisting
Pnau – Embrace
The Modernist – The International Loner
Rex the Dog – I Look Into Mid Air
Jeans Team – Faul
Hercules & Love Affair – Blind
Muscles – One Inch Badge Pin
Chromeo – Destination: Overdrive
Cut Copy – Hearts on FIre
The Presets – This Boy’s In Love
Justice – One Minute to Midnight
Pnau – With You Forever
Cicada – You Got Me Feeling
Digitalism – Digitalism in Cairo
The Field – Everday
Underworld – To Heal
UNKLE – Burn My Shadow
Bonobo – Nightlite
Underworld – Beautiful Burnout

Posted in Flatbeat on Sun Jun 29, 09:30 pm. Shoutouts.

Watching the Swans at Manuka oval, after which we went and had the world’s greatest Kebabs and pints of Little Creatures. I ran home around the lake and across the water all the government buildings were lit up blue, like concrete ghosts reaching for the stars.

Later, when we talked, it was about Mongols, their horses, and how mice look on the inside. I’ll gladly confess I got a little lost at this stage, and that the feeling was a good one. I don’t think thin-slicing should have anything to do with what sweatshirt you’re wearing, or whether you have a moustache, but it’s been a while since I read Blink, and I think I’ll be arguing around corners. This has never stopped me in the past, and it certainly won’t stop me now.

Today, I woke feeling invincible. Like I could punch holes through walls and scream mastery to the hills. Run so fast my feet kick up great clouds of dust, as I hammer through the young trees that snap backward at my approach. It appears I’ve dodged the epidemic that’s ravaging the office and though the vitamins I’ve been stuffing down my throat like candy are unlikely to have helped, a placebo is a powerful thing.

I slip off my front wheel and push a plastic lever into the gap between the rim and tyre. I always forget how to do this, and relearn it every time I change the tube. It doesn’t help that my hands are shaking in the cold, and I stop every few minutes to stick them in my pockets and hop in a circle. Even with cold hands, the metal back of the iPod is colder, and the Notwist inform me that “we’ll remember good lies / when we carry them home with us to our bedside table / and our coffee sets.”

I learnt a new word this week, Proprioception. It relates to the body’s unconscious perception of movement and spatial orientation. It can be learned, or lost, and I’m grateful for it as I lean into the corner and set into an easy rhythm, legs pumping as I head up the hill.

Posted in Locomotion on Sat Jun 28, 02:05 pm. Shoutouts.