Doledrums

I hate my job. I love this song.

Oh…

RIP

Edwin Davey Flour Mill, Ultimo

Wherever I go you are there

Ned Sevil 1980-2010

Goodbye my friend. x

Madness, madness

I just did a search for ‘suicide Villawood’ and one of the results read ‘Federal Opposition condemns Villawood immigration detention centre’. What the fuck? Surely not. Well, of course not, the full headline, when I opened it, had an ‘unrest’ at the end of it.

RIP Josefa Rauluni

RIP Amhed Al Akabi

We can’t let this list get longer.

Ari Up

So, I guess it’s old news for accelerated times but I’m still sad about Ari Up’s passing. Most things I’ve heard about Ari or the Slits in recent years were negative, which is a shame, regardless of how much of it was justified. I mean, I saw her on Spicks and Specks when the Slits toured here in 2007 and she did seem like she’d turned over two pages at once for most of the time. And maybe I nodded along obediently when a certain music snob monologued about their gig being a train wreck. Or a car crash. Some kind of horrible accident, anyway.

But Toby Vail has been collecting dedications on her blog, which I’ve been reading and remembering how mythical the Slits seemed to me when I was a teenager, the anticipation of flipping through record bins in vain hope that I’d find their records, how secretly disappointed I was when Cut was reissued and you could suddenly buy it fucking anywhere, which I suppose it deserves, but you forget how important things are when you can get them on tap.

The day, maybe two days, after Ari’s death, I attended a picnic in a bandstand like the one in the video of Typical Girls. I was with a bunch of cool girls and one cool boy and I doubt that any of us would be able to be the people we are if it weren’t for bands like the Slits.

http://www.youtube.com/v/LOJs9oycX5E?fs=1&hl=en_GB

Zine show and tell…in Marrickville!

Once upon a time I was walking down Marrickville Rd (en route from one parent’s house to the other’s) when a car load of what at my school were called ‘homies’ (what? Where did we think we were?) drove by and yelled ‘go back to Newtown!’ at me. A nice bit of pre-cog on their behalf, as at the time I spent more time lurking within the 2204 postcode boundary than the 2042. That would have been about 1997, I’d estimate. Oh how things have changed etc. And how they haven’t. I don’t know. Anyway, there’s going to be a zine show and tell at Urchin Books on Marrickville Rd, organised by that talented and attractive woman from an alternate world not dissimilar to ours but with much better clothes and less tedium (and more pre-cog, probably. And animal familiars):  the one and only Vanessa Berry. You should attend.

Raining in my room

Another made-on-a-rainy-day zine.

Available for trade or a stamp in the post.