So I've been playing Call of Duty 4, and I hope this isn't a big spoiler for anyone but it turns out that the bad dude is a crazy Russian general who's mad about losing the cold war. Holy fucking shit! Who could have seen that coming! It's only exactly the same plot twist that's been used by every goddamn modern warfare game released in the past ten years (and a season of 24). It's like the entertainment industry sits down every time they try to write a story and say "Who could we use for a bad guy...? I know! The Russians!", and then after several months of production they realise that the USSR doesn't exist anymore but because their dessicated, worn out brains can't think outside of the same old tired cliches they used for thirty years straight, they roll with it anyway.
Just for once I'd like to play a game where you play a former Russian secret service agent who's called back into action in order to stop a crazy American former general who, pissed that the cold war is over, steals a nuke and tries to blow up Moscow.
Showing posts with label Nonsense ramblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nonsense ramblings. Show all posts
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
I'm Like A Dog Chasing Cars! I Wouldn't Know What To Do If I Caught One!
The Dark Knight
directed by Christopher Nolan
I've been listening to all sorts of stuff recently, but there's nothing that I really have a lot to say about (except that TID are really good. Go download their album. It's free!), so this week we're going to take a rare detour into the world of film.
I very rarely actually go to the theatre nowadays, and considering what a fiasco I had getting there it's no wonder why. Most of the problems I had, as with most of the problems in the world today, were the immediate and direct fault of the Catholic Church. As you may or may not be aware, last week large portions of Sydney were closed down to facilitate the arrival of many hundreds of thousands of the gullible, simple minded and deluded who were here to see their favourite rotten old ex-Nazi and his cadre of kiddy fiddlers.
Quite aside from the personal inconvenience it caused me, I find it appalling and offensive that the NSW government is willing to close down half the city, attempt to suspend our right to free speech and spend literally millions of taxpayer dollars for the sake of the Catholic Church, who for all the people who seem to have forgotten, were the nice chaps behind the Crusades and the Inquisition, not to mention their general bigotry, the paedophilia and their consistent opposition to reason and progress throughout modern history. Attention Australian government! These people are not our friends! They are in fact one of the most corrupt and vile institutions in Western history! Please remember this next time!
So anyway all this meant that getting out to Bondi Junction was a total ordeal, as the entire central city was turned into some kind of neutered, conformist carnival, filled with roaming packs of teenagers alternating fascist style chants of “Aussie aussie aussie” and “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”, and singing that godawful fucking 'Jesus loves me yes he does' song. And of course the additional strain on the public transport system meant that the trains broke down and I was stuck in Martin Place station with these people for a quarter of an hour. (In a typically droll piece of public transport organisation we were told after 15 minutes that the train wasn't coming and we should catch the bus, at which point everyone dutifully files out of the station only to hear an announcement that the train was fixed and was arriving in one minute.) It's enough to make you want to go Varg Vikarnes styles on the Sydney cathedral.
I arrived fifteen minutes late but of course, that was no problem. Having not been to the movies for so long I was surprised to learn that nowadays they run a full half hour of ads before the film actually starts. I can't believe that these fuckers get away with that, but I guess with margins being so slim for the cinema business nowadays they really have no choice.
So with all my bitching out of the way I can happily confirm that The Dark Knight is actually a damn good action movie. Perhaps a little long, and with some unfortunate cuts required for its PG13 rating, but otherwise unassailable.
Having not seen Batman Begins I had no expectations for this particular iteration of the franchise, and with relief I note that it has nothing in common with the retarded camp of the Joel Schumacher movies. It does share the Frank Miller inspired grimness of the Tim Burton films, but Burton's characteristic cartooniness has been removed to create a far more realistic tone (relatively speaking that is, in typical action movie fashion people still crash through glass windows, dive through explosions, get shot a couple of times and still manage to walk away afterwards). Gotham City is not so superficially gothic this time around. The demented baroque and art deco nightmares that populated the city in previous versions are gone, leaving cold, grim skyscrapers that somehow end up feeling more gothic than the cartoony buildings they replaced.
The story is familiar territory for anyone who's been exposed to Batman in any of his prior media incarnations. The villains used in this particular instalment are Two Face and The Joker, and while nothing really happens that hasn't been done before the plot is smartly executed, unafraid of complexity and subtlety and not at all predictable. As an action movie it works well too. Despite having enough intelligence in the plot and thoughtful character interaction there's a huge action setpiece every half an hour or so, each of which contains at least one moment that caused my inner fourteen year old to grin his head off and say “That was fucking cool!”.
The papers over here have been full of the predictable posthumous overselling of Heath Ledger's performabce, which needs to be called out as the knee jerk hysterical media overreaction that it is. “Oscar-worthy” they're all screaming, as if this was Shakespeare and not just a decent action movie, and as if anyone with a brain actually gives a shit about the Oscars, that sad tepid one night of the year where the brain dead pillocks in the movie industry make a misguided attempt to raise their artistic consciousness to the level of 'middle brow'. Having said all that Ledger's portrayal of the Joker is genuinely great. Even in Tim Burton's version the Joker wasn't a terribly threatening villain, as his comic nature tended to overshadow any potential menace he could provide. Ledger's Joker on the other hand is one of the most memorable villains to enter filmdom in recent years. Even aside from his hideous facial deformaties his grotesque hunched shuffle and disgusting lip smacking make him truly repulsive. Also his humour isn't overdone; this Joker is first and foremost a frightening psychopath, and although he's still consistently funny, it's very much a twisted, dark and violent kind of comedy. I loved this scene:
although it was better in the movie. I'm sure there were a few more seconds of the Joker muttering away about his magic trick that made the joke.
Other members of the cast deserve mention too. Christian Bale makes a great Batman. In previous versions Batman came across as being almost as fucked up and insane as the supervillains he battles but while Bale's Batman is still a man driven by an unhealthy compulsion he's more human, more sympathetic and more heroic than the Frank Miller inspired psychotics that populate other versions of the story. I also really liked his portrayal of Bruce Wayne, who's makes great comic relief as an apparently over privileged nincompoop. It makes for a far more convincing cover for Batman's secret identity. Maggie Gyllenhaal was very good as the love interest too, she was given a little more substance and personality than the standard damsel in distress, even if she did ultimately end up playing that role (and that she's far too cute to buy as a cop).
It must be noted that The Dark Knight is depressing as hell. On one side the plot is anchored by the tragic story arc of Two-Face, who goes from being a symbol of bravery and hope to becoming an insane murderous monster, and on the other we have the Joker, who is presented as a cypher with no backstory or motivation, an unavoidable consequence of Batman's attempts to do good in the world. If the universe itself will react to the presence of a truly selfless hero by creating a supervillian with an equal and opposite capacity for evil then it seems that the thesis of the film is that the world is a cruel, hopeless place and that any attempt to altruistically improve life for your fellow citizens will only cause a backlash that will make things worse because deep down, people would rather have the freedom to be selfish themselves than see the selfishness of others be punished. However the film fortunately throws in a few moments of redemption towards the end, providing just enough counterpoint to offer hope, but not enough to change the fact that this is one huge downer of a movie.
It's not high art, but The Dark Knight is far more intelligent than the clichéd pabulum that generally passes for action movies nowadays, and that's refreshing. The film has done very well financially on its opening week and it's being spun by the media as being totally attributable to Heath Ledger. Not to undersell his performance, which again is as great as the reviews are all saying, but I'd like to believe that the reason that it has done so well is mostly because it's a well made, intelligent movie. Compare it to the insultingly stupid, lowest common denominator films that it's competing with. Which would you rather pay $17 to see, a smart, well acted movie with a bit of depth, or You Don't Mess With The Zohan?
directed by Christopher Nolan
I've been listening to all sorts of stuff recently, but there's nothing that I really have a lot to say about (except that TID are really good. Go download their album. It's free!), so this week we're going to take a rare detour into the world of film.
I very rarely actually go to the theatre nowadays, and considering what a fiasco I had getting there it's no wonder why. Most of the problems I had, as with most of the problems in the world today, were the immediate and direct fault of the Catholic Church. As you may or may not be aware, last week large portions of Sydney were closed down to facilitate the arrival of many hundreds of thousands of the gullible, simple minded and deluded who were here to see their favourite rotten old ex-Nazi and his cadre of kiddy fiddlers.
Quite aside from the personal inconvenience it caused me, I find it appalling and offensive that the NSW government is willing to close down half the city, attempt to suspend our right to free speech and spend literally millions of taxpayer dollars for the sake of the Catholic Church, who for all the people who seem to have forgotten, were the nice chaps behind the Crusades and the Inquisition, not to mention their general bigotry, the paedophilia and their consistent opposition to reason and progress throughout modern history. Attention Australian government! These people are not our friends! They are in fact one of the most corrupt and vile institutions in Western history! Please remember this next time!
So anyway all this meant that getting out to Bondi Junction was a total ordeal, as the entire central city was turned into some kind of neutered, conformist carnival, filled with roaming packs of teenagers alternating fascist style chants of “Aussie aussie aussie” and “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”, and singing that godawful fucking 'Jesus loves me yes he does' song. And of course the additional strain on the public transport system meant that the trains broke down and I was stuck in Martin Place station with these people for a quarter of an hour. (In a typically droll piece of public transport organisation we were told after 15 minutes that the train wasn't coming and we should catch the bus, at which point everyone dutifully files out of the station only to hear an announcement that the train was fixed and was arriving in one minute.) It's enough to make you want to go Varg Vikarnes styles on the Sydney cathedral.
I arrived fifteen minutes late but of course, that was no problem. Having not been to the movies for so long I was surprised to learn that nowadays they run a full half hour of ads before the film actually starts. I can't believe that these fuckers get away with that, but I guess with margins being so slim for the cinema business nowadays they really have no choice.
So with all my bitching out of the way I can happily confirm that The Dark Knight is actually a damn good action movie. Perhaps a little long, and with some unfortunate cuts required for its PG13 rating, but otherwise unassailable.
Having not seen Batman Begins I had no expectations for this particular iteration of the franchise, and with relief I note that it has nothing in common with the retarded camp of the Joel Schumacher movies. It does share the Frank Miller inspired grimness of the Tim Burton films, but Burton's characteristic cartooniness has been removed to create a far more realistic tone (relatively speaking that is, in typical action movie fashion people still crash through glass windows, dive through explosions, get shot a couple of times and still manage to walk away afterwards). Gotham City is not so superficially gothic this time around. The demented baroque and art deco nightmares that populated the city in previous versions are gone, leaving cold, grim skyscrapers that somehow end up feeling more gothic than the cartoony buildings they replaced.
The story is familiar territory for anyone who's been exposed to Batman in any of his prior media incarnations. The villains used in this particular instalment are Two Face and The Joker, and while nothing really happens that hasn't been done before the plot is smartly executed, unafraid of complexity and subtlety and not at all predictable. As an action movie it works well too. Despite having enough intelligence in the plot and thoughtful character interaction there's a huge action setpiece every half an hour or so, each of which contains at least one moment that caused my inner fourteen year old to grin his head off and say “That was fucking cool!”.
The papers over here have been full of the predictable posthumous overselling of Heath Ledger's performabce, which needs to be called out as the knee jerk hysterical media overreaction that it is. “Oscar-worthy” they're all screaming, as if this was Shakespeare and not just a decent action movie, and as if anyone with a brain actually gives a shit about the Oscars, that sad tepid one night of the year where the brain dead pillocks in the movie industry make a misguided attempt to raise their artistic consciousness to the level of 'middle brow'. Having said all that Ledger's portrayal of the Joker is genuinely great. Even in Tim Burton's version the Joker wasn't a terribly threatening villain, as his comic nature tended to overshadow any potential menace he could provide. Ledger's Joker on the other hand is one of the most memorable villains to enter filmdom in recent years. Even aside from his hideous facial deformaties his grotesque hunched shuffle and disgusting lip smacking make him truly repulsive. Also his humour isn't overdone; this Joker is first and foremost a frightening psychopath, and although he's still consistently funny, it's very much a twisted, dark and violent kind of comedy. I loved this scene:
although it was better in the movie. I'm sure there were a few more seconds of the Joker muttering away about his magic trick that made the joke.
Other members of the cast deserve mention too. Christian Bale makes a great Batman. In previous versions Batman came across as being almost as fucked up and insane as the supervillains he battles but while Bale's Batman is still a man driven by an unhealthy compulsion he's more human, more sympathetic and more heroic than the Frank Miller inspired psychotics that populate other versions of the story. I also really liked his portrayal of Bruce Wayne, who's makes great comic relief as an apparently over privileged nincompoop. It makes for a far more convincing cover for Batman's secret identity. Maggie Gyllenhaal was very good as the love interest too, she was given a little more substance and personality than the standard damsel in distress, even if she did ultimately end up playing that role (and that she's far too cute to buy as a cop).
It must be noted that The Dark Knight is depressing as hell. On one side the plot is anchored by the tragic story arc of Two-Face, who goes from being a symbol of bravery and hope to becoming an insane murderous monster, and on the other we have the Joker, who is presented as a cypher with no backstory or motivation, an unavoidable consequence of Batman's attempts to do good in the world. If the universe itself will react to the presence of a truly selfless hero by creating a supervillian with an equal and opposite capacity for evil then it seems that the thesis of the film is that the world is a cruel, hopeless place and that any attempt to altruistically improve life for your fellow citizens will only cause a backlash that will make things worse because deep down, people would rather have the freedom to be selfish themselves than see the selfishness of others be punished. However the film fortunately throws in a few moments of redemption towards the end, providing just enough counterpoint to offer hope, but not enough to change the fact that this is one huge downer of a movie.
It's not high art, but The Dark Knight is far more intelligent than the clichéd pabulum that generally passes for action movies nowadays, and that's refreshing. The film has done very well financially on its opening week and it's being spun by the media as being totally attributable to Heath Ledger. Not to undersell his performance, which again is as great as the reviews are all saying, but I'd like to believe that the reason that it has done so well is mostly because it's a well made, intelligent movie. Compare it to the insultingly stupid, lowest common denominator films that it's competing with. Which would you rather pay $17 to see, a smart, well acted movie with a bit of depth, or You Don't Mess With The Zohan?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
I'm Back
Cornelius J. Ferryweather III may have beaten me in the end (but only with the help of his team of black hearted rogues and their gigantic fog machine that bested me in the exotic port city of Dubai!) but the important thing is to reflect on the lessons that we learned along the way. The many uplifting and enlightening experiences that I had on my journey included:
But I built a lot of character!
- Getting grifted by an Indian magician in Singapore airport.
- Being woken up by soldiers armed with automatic rifles in Singapore airport.
- Getting grifted by dodgy electronics salesmen in New York.
- Getting lost in the projects on Staten Island.
- Getting grifted by strippers in Times Square.
- Getting detained by immigration in the UK.
- Enduring the stunning ineptitude of the Emirates ground staff in London.
- Sitting next to Mr. Elbows McCoughsalot for twelve hours flying from London to Singapore.
But I built a lot of character!
Saturday, November 03, 2007
cucucu
"The Sugababes!" I snarl, slamming my rum and coke down on the bar.
"You simply cannot be more mistaken," says Cornelius J. Ferryweather III with a sneer, "Britney Spears' The Blackening will undoubtedly be the feel good party album of the summer."
"THE SUGABABES!" I roar, lurching unsteadily to my feet and knocking over my barstool as I do so. The bartender tells me that I need to leave, and that he's not going to ask again.
"On lead single 'Gimme Gimme Gimme' Britney channels her recent troubles into fresh artistic expression," Cornelius J. Ferryweather III states in his refined accent, "infusing her trademark bubblegum pop with a mature, earthy sexuality..."
He continues on but I am not listening. I can see the bouncers making their way to the bar, and I know that I do not have much time. "I foresee only one way to settle this...", I interrupt. "I propose a race around the world!!"
"Very well, I accept!" returns Cornelius J. Ferryweather III. "I have no doubt that my zeppelin, The August Queen Victoria, shall see me back in Sydney while you are still struggling across the Sahara in your solar powered hovercraft!"
I have no chance to reply, as I am now being carried out the door. I know not how I shall beat him, nor what perils I may face along the way, but I am steadfast in my conviction that I shall triumph in this race... AROUND THE WORLD!!!!
"You simply cannot be more mistaken," says Cornelius J. Ferryweather III with a sneer, "Britney Spears' The Blackening will undoubtedly be the feel good party album of the summer."
"THE SUGABABES!" I roar, lurching unsteadily to my feet and knocking over my barstool as I do so. The bartender tells me that I need to leave, and that he's not going to ask again.
"On lead single 'Gimme Gimme Gimme' Britney channels her recent troubles into fresh artistic expression," Cornelius J. Ferryweather III states in his refined accent, "infusing her trademark bubblegum pop with a mature, earthy sexuality..."
He continues on but I am not listening. I can see the bouncers making their way to the bar, and I know that I do not have much time. "I foresee only one way to settle this...", I interrupt. "I propose a race around the world!!"
"Very well, I accept!" returns Cornelius J. Ferryweather III. "I have no doubt that my zeppelin, The August Queen Victoria, shall see me back in Sydney while you are still struggling across the Sahara in your solar powered hovercraft!"
I have no chance to reply, as I am now being carried out the door. I know not how I shall beat him, nor what perils I may face along the way, but I am steadfast in my conviction that I shall triumph in this race... AROUND THE WORLD!!!!
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Unbelievable Awesomeness Is Suprisingly Believable
So I was looking at this the other day, and it got me thinking about what search terms might bring the Wildebeest Asylum up as the first result on Google. I couldn't really think of any (other than obvious, dumb ones, like my name), but I tried 'unbelievable awesomeness', since that's a phrase I use frequently and one that I thought came straight out of my arsehole. Turns out that this blog is on the second page of results for that term. 'Unbelievable awesomeness' is all over the blogosphere, and I have no recollection of where I got it from.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Pet Peeve
Pet peeve of the day: the term 'neo-classical metal'.
I first noticed the term when it was applied to Dragonforce. As far as I can tell it's used only to infuse cheesy metal bands with more importance and respectability than they deserve. What it technically means is that they use 'classical' instruments such as piano, and that they steal riffs and motifs from classical music. In every other respect, it's indistinguishable from normal metal.
It's all total bullshit. Firstly, a piano is no more a classical instrument than the guitar, they've both been rock music staples since the beginning of the style. Secondly, just because you're playing rock music with an orchestra doesn't make it classical.
Also, the actual music that they appropriate is usually Romantic rather than classical, I'd let that slide because they're just using the colloquial definition of 'Classical', but it brings me to my main complaint, that there already is a genre existing called neo-classical, which refers to the music made by composers such as Stravinsky and Shostakovich which reversed some of the trends of Romanticism and returned in some ways to the styles of the Mozart/Beethoven era.
Attention Metal Heads!
Just because your song has a piano in it does not make it classical!
Just because your song has a violin in it does not make it classical!
Just because your song has a long elaborate wank solo in it,does not make it classical!
Just because your song is written in a diatonic scale does not make it classical!
If the London Symphony Orchestra got Yngwie Malmstein to wail along with them on a Wagner tune, would that make it a metal song? No! Of course not!
Every band listed on the wikipedia page for neo-classical metal could be more properly classed as some other brand of metal, usually power- or prog-. The term itself is simply an attempt at pretention, with no real meaning.
I first noticed the term when it was applied to Dragonforce. As far as I can tell it's used only to infuse cheesy metal bands with more importance and respectability than they deserve. What it technically means is that they use 'classical' instruments such as piano, and that they steal riffs and motifs from classical music. In every other respect, it's indistinguishable from normal metal.
It's all total bullshit. Firstly, a piano is no more a classical instrument than the guitar, they've both been rock music staples since the beginning of the style. Secondly, just because you're playing rock music with an orchestra doesn't make it classical.
Also, the actual music that they appropriate is usually Romantic rather than classical, I'd let that slide because they're just using the colloquial definition of 'Classical', but it brings me to my main complaint, that there already is a genre existing called neo-classical, which refers to the music made by composers such as Stravinsky and Shostakovich which reversed some of the trends of Romanticism and returned in some ways to the styles of the Mozart/Beethoven era.
Attention Metal Heads!
Just because your song has a piano in it does not make it classical!
Just because your song has a violin in it does not make it classical!
Just because your song has a long elaborate wank solo in it,does not make it classical!
Just because your song is written in a diatonic scale does not make it classical!
If the London Symphony Orchestra got Yngwie Malmstein to wail along with them on a Wagner tune, would that make it a metal song? No! Of course not!
Every band listed on the wikipedia page for neo-classical metal could be more properly classed as some other brand of metal, usually power- or prog-. The term itself is simply an attempt at pretention, with no real meaning.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Death!
Over at Slacktivist Fred Clarke posts an alphabetical selection of tracks taken off his ipod every Friday. He invites the reader to compare their own itunes list, which I often do, even though my music collection bears almost no relation to his. Yesterday he did 'De...'. See his list here. Now look at an excerpt of mine:
Slightly worried about what this says about me, I tried 'Love' and got 77 matches. Phew! My music collection isn't as morbid as I feared!
'Sex' returns only 8 matches, including three versions of 'Robot Sex' by Mike Patton. 'Fuck' returns 13, including five versions of 'Starfuckers Inc.'.
Lastly, 'Life' returns 19 songs, but that includes 'In Death - Is Life' by Meshuggah. Not sure if that should count!
- De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas - Mayhem
- Dead Cats, Dead Rats - The Doors
- Dead Friends (Around the Corner) - Einsturzende Neubauten (three versions!)
- Dead Gardens - Nightwish
- Dead Goon - Mr. Bungle
- Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground - The White Stripes
- Dead Souls - Nine Inch Nails covering Joy Division
- Dead Star (live) - Muse
- Deaf as a Bat - The Jesus Lizard
- Deanna - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
- Death - Skinny Puppy
- Death Dealer's Descent - Underworld Soundtrack
- Death in the Family - Sparta
- Death is not the End - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
- Death King - Converge
- The Death of Passion - Nevermore
- Death Whispered a Lullaby - Opeth
- Deathblow - Deftones
- Debase (Soft Palate) - Aphex Twin remixing Mike Flowers Pops
- Deceit - Suffocation
Slightly worried about what this says about me, I tried 'Love' and got 77 matches. Phew! My music collection isn't as morbid as I feared!
'Sex' returns only 8 matches, including three versions of 'Robot Sex' by Mike Patton. 'Fuck' returns 13, including five versions of 'Starfuckers Inc.'.
Lastly, 'Life' returns 19 songs, but that includes 'In Death - Is Life' by Meshuggah. Not sure if that should count!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Anniversary
I didn't realise until about ten o'clock, after about half an hour of reading blogs, that today was September 11th. Sure, I knew the date, but I didn't click that it was that anniversary until I suddenly noticed that every political blog in the world was talking about the same thing.
My slowness to notice was probably because every non-political blog in the world was talking about Britney's bad lip syncing and drug fucked demeanour at the MTV video awards.
My slowness to notice was probably because every non-political blog in the world was talking about Britney's bad lip syncing and drug fucked demeanour at the MTV video awards.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
The Sunday Lessons
Because I haven't done one of these for a while.
- Drug dealers have very nice apartments.
- B&D clubs can be more fun than you'd expect.
- I must be getting old. Getting drunk and heading out clubbing by myself has lost a lot of appeal.
Monday, August 13, 2007
What I Did On My Weekend
Sobriety Edition
Was invited along to a random gig on Friday night. The venue was Bar Broadway, which is always an odd place to visit. It's right next to central station as well as being two blocks down the road from a trendy indie club and literally over the road from a popular metal club, so on a Friday night you'll find it packed with an interesting melange of subcultures; office workers stopping in for an after work drink, girls in expensive dresses heading to swanky CBD clubs and an assortment of goths, metallers, hardcore kids and whatever those tragic indie kids who go to Purple Sneakers call themselves.
So anyway, the bands. I had no idea who any of these guys were so I had no idea what to expect. First up were Judgement Party, who are pretty hard to describe. There are seven of them: guitar, bass, drums, two keyboards and two vocalists (one guy, one girl) and they mashed together an original blend of funk-metal and this upbeat industrial-pop kind of thing that seems to be popular in Australia. A lot of what they did seemed cliché, but it was combined ways that I can't say I've ever heard before so it didn't matter. They sure had tons of energy and the vocalists especially harmonized really well with one another. I'd definitely see these guys again.
Next up were .hinge, visiting from Melbourne. If you're a fifteen year old emo kid who can't believe how underrated Incubus are then these guys are highly recommended. Otherwise look elsewhere.
Many Machines On Nine were up last, and they were pretty good too. They play that kind of industrial rock that is clearly derived from Nine Inch Nails but sounds nothing like them. Maybe Stabbing Westward is a good point of reference but to be honest I can't remember Stabbing Westward well enough to be sure. At any rate these guys rocked out pretty hard and while their songs ranged from light and poppy to heavy and angry they were all big stompy industrial anthems that got the whole dancefloor bouncing. Highly recommended for everybody.
That was Friday. Saturday I did nothing, as I was in preparation for the fun run on Sunday. Last time I managed a respectable ninety minutes and I was determined this year to SMASH that record. We'd trained pretty hard for it over the last few months (I think we started in May), and it's no exaggeration when I say that we had ex-military trainers yelling at us as we ran up and down the stairs, just like Rocky. Of course all that preparation was effectively rendered for naught when I came down with the flu last week. A fifteen minute walk after lunch on Friday almost incapacitated me, and my girlfriend remarked as I lay wheezing in bed after a round of laboured, slothful love making, “How the hell do you think you're going to run the City to Surf in that state?!”
Refusing to listen to those who didn't believe in me, I still manfully strode up to the starting line on Sunday morning. It didn't go so well. For the first half of the race I struggled to maintain anything faster than a shuffle. It's a bad sign when you see creaky old octogenarians and guys dressed in drag passing you. I kind of picked up a bit of energy for the second half and my result, while nowhere near what I was aiming for, still knocked a solid five minutes off my previous time. (This might sound pretty good but all of that and probably more can be accounted for by the fact that they let you start closer to the front when they have a decent (sub-100 minutes) time on record for you for previous years.)
My boss kindly invited everyone back to his place for a shower and refreshments afterwards which was nice and after that I decided to go home. Recalling that last year I opted to catch the bus and spent half an hour waiting for the damn thing and then an hour sweltering inside it as we slowly crept through traffic (before giving up completely when the road was blocked by a gay pride parade). I decided to be smart and walk up to Bondi Junction (twenty to thirty minutes uphill) and catch the train home. Unfortunately I forgot to take into account my legendarily bad sense of direction. I walked five metres out the door and ran into two friends, E. and J., on their way out for a drink. I ended up walking home with them and then realising I had no idea where I was. E. helpfully pointed me towards a major road that ran towards Bondi Junction, and I set along down it. Before long I noticed that most people were travelling at ninety degrees to the way I was going so I turned and followed them for a while, before getting confused and deciding, in typical Jon-getting-lost fashion, to compromise and head off at forty five degrees. An hour later I finally reached the train station, having seen some interesting parts of the city that I'd never been to before (including all the incredibly tacky mansions and gated apartment complexes on Bellevue Hill) but after running for fourteen kilometres it was the last thing I needed.
I went to bed at about 10pm (very early for me) and fell asleep so fast I didn't even have the time to turn out the lights beforehand.
Was invited along to a random gig on Friday night. The venue was Bar Broadway, which is always an odd place to visit. It's right next to central station as well as being two blocks down the road from a trendy indie club and literally over the road from a popular metal club, so on a Friday night you'll find it packed with an interesting melange of subcultures; office workers stopping in for an after work drink, girls in expensive dresses heading to swanky CBD clubs and an assortment of goths, metallers, hardcore kids and whatever those tragic indie kids who go to Purple Sneakers call themselves.
So anyway, the bands. I had no idea who any of these guys were so I had no idea what to expect. First up were Judgement Party, who are pretty hard to describe. There are seven of them: guitar, bass, drums, two keyboards and two vocalists (one guy, one girl) and they mashed together an original blend of funk-metal and this upbeat industrial-pop kind of thing that seems to be popular in Australia. A lot of what they did seemed cliché, but it was combined ways that I can't say I've ever heard before so it didn't matter. They sure had tons of energy and the vocalists especially harmonized really well with one another. I'd definitely see these guys again.
Next up were .hinge, visiting from Melbourne. If you're a fifteen year old emo kid who can't believe how underrated Incubus are then these guys are highly recommended. Otherwise look elsewhere.
Many Machines On Nine were up last, and they were pretty good too. They play that kind of industrial rock that is clearly derived from Nine Inch Nails but sounds nothing like them. Maybe Stabbing Westward is a good point of reference but to be honest I can't remember Stabbing Westward well enough to be sure. At any rate these guys rocked out pretty hard and while their songs ranged from light and poppy to heavy and angry they were all big stompy industrial anthems that got the whole dancefloor bouncing. Highly recommended for everybody.
That was Friday. Saturday I did nothing, as I was in preparation for the fun run on Sunday. Last time I managed a respectable ninety minutes and I was determined this year to SMASH that record. We'd trained pretty hard for it over the last few months (I think we started in May), and it's no exaggeration when I say that we had ex-military trainers yelling at us as we ran up and down the stairs, just like Rocky. Of course all that preparation was effectively rendered for naught when I came down with the flu last week. A fifteen minute walk after lunch on Friday almost incapacitated me, and my girlfriend remarked as I lay wheezing in bed after a round of laboured, slothful love making, “How the hell do you think you're going to run the City to Surf in that state?!”
Refusing to listen to those who didn't believe in me, I still manfully strode up to the starting line on Sunday morning. It didn't go so well. For the first half of the race I struggled to maintain anything faster than a shuffle. It's a bad sign when you see creaky old octogenarians and guys dressed in drag passing you. I kind of picked up a bit of energy for the second half and my result, while nowhere near what I was aiming for, still knocked a solid five minutes off my previous time. (This might sound pretty good but all of that and probably more can be accounted for by the fact that they let you start closer to the front when they have a decent (sub-100 minutes) time on record for you for previous years.)
My boss kindly invited everyone back to his place for a shower and refreshments afterwards which was nice and after that I decided to go home. Recalling that last year I opted to catch the bus and spent half an hour waiting for the damn thing and then an hour sweltering inside it as we slowly crept through traffic (before giving up completely when the road was blocked by a gay pride parade). I decided to be smart and walk up to Bondi Junction (twenty to thirty minutes uphill) and catch the train home. Unfortunately I forgot to take into account my legendarily bad sense of direction. I walked five metres out the door and ran into two friends, E. and J., on their way out for a drink. I ended up walking home with them and then realising I had no idea where I was. E. helpfully pointed me towards a major road that ran towards Bondi Junction, and I set along down it. Before long I noticed that most people were travelling at ninety degrees to the way I was going so I turned and followed them for a while, before getting confused and deciding, in typical Jon-getting-lost fashion, to compromise and head off at forty five degrees. An hour later I finally reached the train station, having seen some interesting parts of the city that I'd never been to before (including all the incredibly tacky mansions and gated apartment complexes on Bellevue Hill) but after running for fourteen kilometres it was the last thing I needed.
I went to bed at about 10pm (very early for me) and fell asleep so fast I didn't even have the time to turn out the lights beforehand.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
What I Did On My Weekend(s)
For no particular reason, except that I did a bunch of cool stuff over the last couple of weeks, I'm going to indulge in a little cat blogging and recite the (hopefully not too tedious) details of my life over the last few weeks.
Last weekend (the 28th and 29th) my work flew everyone up to Port Douglas for a holiday (thank you U.S. stock market crashes!) I'd never been up to that part of Australia before (I never even realised how huge Queensland is compared to New South Wales, but I guess that's what you get when most of the country is desert that's no use for anything) so it was pretty exciting. Unfortunately the weekend was somewhat marred by the fact that some of my luggage was lost on the way up (and I'm still waiting to get it back), but other than that it was great fun.
On Saturday we went on a trip out to the Great Barrier Reef to go diving and snorkelling. I passed on the diving on account of feeling a little unwell, but I regret that now. At least I got in the water (unlike some people), and at least once I got in the water I didn't jump straight back out again because I saw a big fish (unlike some other people). The reef is a very unique, beautiful place (almost as good as New Zealand) but unfortunately none of my photos turned out very well. At least I got this one of a whale on the trip back:
Later that night we went out to dinner at Nautilus, one of the swankiest restaurants in this swanky resort town. It was open to the rainforest and the ambience was superb. The waiters certainly knew what to do when they saw a big corporate group come in with the company paying the tab and plied us with all manner of expensive wines, and even egged us on by telling us that the next table had spent more than us and we should try to catch up. I hate to think how much I drank and considering that I woke up without a hangover when red wine usually seriously disagrees with me it must have been very good quality. The food was excellent too.
Afterwards there was a spot of clubbing and then a long walk down the beach back to the resort. The beach looked amazing in the moonlight even when perceived through my hazy drunken memories. Back at the hotel much room service was consumed and drinking games continued well into the morning.
The next day was spent lounging by the pool and on the beach, with a spot of Coconut Olympics in the afternoon (won by the UK in a controversial round of 'who can throw the coconut the furthest', which could not be resolved due to the object of play bursting open and leaving smelly, rotten coconut milk all over the hands of the contestants).
It was a pretty cool holiday.
This weekend just been was supposed to be a quiet one but the Death Metal Kindy Teacher was ill, leaving me to wander the streets of Sydney without the tender oversight of a woman to keep me from going off the rails. Friday night ended up being work drinks, and a few unsuspecting co-workers were press ganged into a slow, meandering ramble down Oxford Street, during which I learned the following valuable lessons:
But man, what a great show! The bar itself is a very nice venue, with lots of class and ambience. The drinks are expensive but not too bad for that part of town. You sit there and drink and eat nibbles, and periodically the performers take the stage and entertain the crowd for a while. The first few dances leant very much to the 'arty' side of things, being slow, graceful and moody, while still sensual. Later on things got more fun and light hearted. The performers themselves, male and female, were just brilliant, exuding so much grace and sexuality that the entire room was enraptured every time they took the stage. A bit of audience participation never fails to go down well either, as one relatively straight laced girl in our group learned when she got a face full of hot, jiggling burlesque dancer arse. Anyway, if you get the chance to go to anything like that do it, because I don't think I've been so well entertained for a long time.
Afterwards we ended up back on Oxford Street at Spectrum, a club that I loathe with every fibre of my hipster hating soul, but it was the birthday boys choice so there we were, hanging out with eighteen year olds who think they invented cool because they've heard of The Smiths.
Overall it was a very fun night, especially the burlesque, but what goes up must come down and on Sunday night I found myself sicker than I can remember being in eight years. I trundled off to bed at about ten (pretty early for me) where I was beset by a fever and dreams that three wizards were having a fight (complete with purple and green lasers shooting from their staves) inside my head. Finally at about midday on Monday one of the wizards triumphed, emerging from a shattered hole in my crown that had been opened by a final climactic concussion, and declared victory. I then returned to the realm of the sensible, although I was still unable to get out of bed until four hours later, when I staggered down to the dairy to buy the only dinner I could stomach the thought of; several cans of tinned fruit and a big tub of chocolate ice cream. A worthy reward for such a tiring couple of weeks.
Last weekend (the 28th and 29th) my work flew everyone up to Port Douglas for a holiday (thank you U.S. stock market crashes!) I'd never been up to that part of Australia before (I never even realised how huge Queensland is compared to New South Wales, but I guess that's what you get when most of the country is desert that's no use for anything) so it was pretty exciting. Unfortunately the weekend was somewhat marred by the fact that some of my luggage was lost on the way up (and I'm still waiting to get it back), but other than that it was great fun.
On Saturday we went on a trip out to the Great Barrier Reef to go diving and snorkelling. I passed on the diving on account of feeling a little unwell, but I regret that now. At least I got in the water (unlike some people), and at least once I got in the water I didn't jump straight back out again because I saw a big fish (unlike some other people). The reef is a very unique, beautiful place (almost as good as New Zealand) but unfortunately none of my photos turned out very well. At least I got this one of a whale on the trip back:
Later that night we went out to dinner at Nautilus, one of the swankiest restaurants in this swanky resort town. It was open to the rainforest and the ambience was superb. The waiters certainly knew what to do when they saw a big corporate group come in with the company paying the tab and plied us with all manner of expensive wines, and even egged us on by telling us that the next table had spent more than us and we should try to catch up. I hate to think how much I drank and considering that I woke up without a hangover when red wine usually seriously disagrees with me it must have been very good quality. The food was excellent too.
Afterwards there was a spot of clubbing and then a long walk down the beach back to the resort. The beach looked amazing in the moonlight even when perceived through my hazy drunken memories. Back at the hotel much room service was consumed and drinking games continued well into the morning.
The next day was spent lounging by the pool and on the beach, with a spot of Coconut Olympics in the afternoon (won by the UK in a controversial round of 'who can throw the coconut the furthest', which could not be resolved due to the object of play bursting open and leaving smelly, rotten coconut milk all over the hands of the contestants).
It was a pretty cool holiday.
This weekend just been was supposed to be a quiet one but the Death Metal Kindy Teacher was ill, leaving me to wander the streets of Sydney without the tender oversight of a woman to keep me from going off the rails. Friday night ended up being work drinks, and a few unsuspecting co-workers were press ganged into a slow, meandering ramble down Oxford Street, during which I learned the following valuable lessons:
- Doing two consecutive jagerbombs is easier than a single shot of 42 below.
- Living so close to Oxford Street has made me surprisingly comfortable in gay bars.
- It's always the foreigners who go home last.
But man, what a great show! The bar itself is a very nice venue, with lots of class and ambience. The drinks are expensive but not too bad for that part of town. You sit there and drink and eat nibbles, and periodically the performers take the stage and entertain the crowd for a while. The first few dances leant very much to the 'arty' side of things, being slow, graceful and moody, while still sensual. Later on things got more fun and light hearted. The performers themselves, male and female, were just brilliant, exuding so much grace and sexuality that the entire room was enraptured every time they took the stage. A bit of audience participation never fails to go down well either, as one relatively straight laced girl in our group learned when she got a face full of hot, jiggling burlesque dancer arse. Anyway, if you get the chance to go to anything like that do it, because I don't think I've been so well entertained for a long time.
Afterwards we ended up back on Oxford Street at Spectrum, a club that I loathe with every fibre of my hipster hating soul, but it was the birthday boys choice so there we were, hanging out with eighteen year olds who think they invented cool because they've heard of The Smiths.
Overall it was a very fun night, especially the burlesque, but what goes up must come down and on Sunday night I found myself sicker than I can remember being in eight years. I trundled off to bed at about ten (pretty early for me) where I was beset by a fever and dreams that three wizards were having a fight (complete with purple and green lasers shooting from their staves) inside my head. Finally at about midday on Monday one of the wizards triumphed, emerging from a shattered hole in my crown that had been opened by a final climactic concussion, and declared victory. I then returned to the realm of the sensible, although I was still unable to get out of bed until four hours later, when I staggered down to the dairy to buy the only dinner I could stomach the thought of; several cans of tinned fruit and a big tub of chocolate ice cream. A worthy reward for such a tiring couple of weeks.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Good Monkey Vs Evil Monkey
Via Arts and Letters, an interesting article about bonobo monkeys. The conventional wisdom is that while chimpanzees are violent, warlike and patriarchal, bonobos are gentle, matriarchal and highly sexual.
Of course the truth is not so clean and tidy, but it's still an interesting insight into human psychology to see the way people have projected these yin and yang personalities onto a bunch of unsuspecting monkeys, one group embodying the altruistic, nurturing side of human nature and the other the destructive, warlike (but also industrious and creative) side.
Of course the truth is not so clean and tidy, but it's still an interesting insight into human psychology to see the way people have projected these yin and yang personalities onto a bunch of unsuspecting monkeys, one group embodying the altruistic, nurturing side of human nature and the other the destructive, warlike (but also industrious and creative) side.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Profound Observation Of The Day
Foot fetishes are so common, but I've never heard of anyone with a hand fetish. That seems weird, surely it would be easier to sexualise hands than feet?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
You Know You Have Too Much Porn When...
... you have to tap in random characters every time you save a new image because the odds are that any given filename will be already used.
You know you have way too much porn when those strings of random letters start having to be ten or more characters long.
You know that the internet has made this all too easy when you just give up and start using another directory. And end up with the same problem in less than a week.
God damn you Babeonaut!
You know you have way too much porn when those strings of random letters start having to be ten or more characters long.
You know that the internet has made this all too easy when you just give up and start using another directory. And end up with the same problem in less than a week.
God damn you Babeonaut!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Google Reader
...is absolute gold.
The only downside is that it concatenates everything in your RSS feed onto a single page. So some troubling, serious post from No Right Turn melds straight on into whatever hardcore porn stills are on the front page of Fleshbot (NSFW).
And speaking of Fleshbot and RSS, I wonder why they split their feeds into 'gay' and 'straight' (and 'all'). It seems a little sexist. Shouldn't it be 'people who like boys', 'people who like girls' and 'people who like everyone'?
The only downside is that it concatenates everything in your RSS feed onto a single page. So some troubling, serious post from No Right Turn melds straight on into whatever hardcore porn stills are on the front page of Fleshbot (NSFW).
And speaking of Fleshbot and RSS, I wonder why they split their feeds into 'gay' and 'straight' (and 'all'). It seems a little sexist. Shouldn't it be 'people who like boys', 'people who like girls' and 'people who like everyone'?
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Five Possible Reasons Why Nine Inch Nails Cancelled Two Of Their Sydney Shows
- Trent fell off the wagon.
- Josh fell off a literal wagon and broke his arm.
- Government agents broke into Trent's hotel room, kidnapped him and shipped him off to a concentration camp in Guam.
- It's part of an elaborate practical joke that Trent and Thom Yorke are playing on Bex.
- The crushing disappointment of having a concert cancelled on you mere hours before the event is all just part of the Year Zero experience.
Monday, April 16, 2007
New Flat
Before I moved I promised to put up some photos of my new apartment. They're only six weeks late but here they are:
Not that exciting eh. There's a nice view from the roof though, I might take some pictures of that this weekend.
Here's a special bonus photo of my new bookcase which I paid far too much money for:
Not that exciting eh. There's a nice view from the roof though, I might take some pictures of that this weekend.Here's a special bonus photo of my new bookcase which I paid far too much money for:
Friday, March 02, 2007
The End(?)
A pall of smoke hangs over the once tranquil field. The ashes of the Wildebeest Asylum still hang in the air, drifting slowly to the ground. Those assembled hold their breath, the unspoken tension pregnant with the memory of what they had just witnessed; the death of a mighty blog, once first among it's peers, now brought down at what would appear to be the moment of it's triumph.
One by one the onlookers leave, hearts made heavy by what they had seen. But a glimmer of hope burned still, for all had heard the prophet's words:
One by one the onlookers leave, hearts made heavy by what they had seen. But a glimmer of hope burned still, for all had heard the prophet's words:
"No man can say when the day will come. But all know within their deepest selves that it shall. On the day when the sun stands still, the dead walk once more and Jonathan gets internet access in his new flat, then the Wildebeest Asylum shall return, born anew as a phoenix from the ashes. Though the way may seem dark and troubled and some shall lose faith, believe that this most wonderous of blogs has not forgotten you, and will return in your hour of need."Some dismissed the message as the senile ravings of an old man, but others kept the flame burning in their hearts. Patiently awaiting the day that a new post would appear.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Flat Hunting
Chuck Norris doesn't go flat hunting, because the term 'hunting' implies the possibility of failure. Chuck Norris goes flat killing.Man is flat hunting a chore. Especially in central Sydney where it costs a bajillion dollars to live in a cardboard box on the side of the road. I thought I'd been quite clever by deciding to look at apartments in Kings Cross; it's a lot cheaper than elsewhere and it's a nice quick walk to work (plus close to lots of bars and clubs), but after spending a Saturday morning wandering around and looking at places there I decided that maybe there were just a few many junkies, hobos and general vagabonds in that area even for me.
However I also looked at a few places in neighbouring Elizabeth Bay and Potts Point. This is one of those situations where you're walking through one suburb (Kings Cross) where there are strip clubs and seedy bars everywhere and meth heads swearing at you from the gutter, and suddenly you cross some imaginary ley line and you're surrounded by trendy cafés, swanky apartment blocks and dolled up eastern suburbs princesses with big Paris Hilton sunglasses and little dogs. I hadn't visited those suburbs before and I was really impressed, on a sunny Saturday morning it's like being back in the Mediterranean, with all the little cafés overlooking beautiful harbour views and a pleasant, relaxed, social atmosphere. The only difference is that the fat obnoxious Australians ruining it all aren't tourists, they're the locals.
I did find one apartment I would consider renting there, it was a bit small but very nice, and boasted the most incredible view of the harbour, the CBD skyline, the harbour bridge and the opera house. I wish I'd thought to take a photo, it was just stunning. The only reason I said no to the place was because even though it was only eleven a.m. it was like a sauna in there, and the apartment was west facing! I still haven't acclimatised enough to the heat here to handle that sort of thing.
I've put a deposit down for a really nice place in Surry Hills, which seems to be in the sweet spot as far as central Sydney suburbs go in balancing niceness, affordability and junkie/hobo population density, but it remains to be seen whether I'll get it or not as the property market here is pretty harsh towards renters right now.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Your Lucky Day!
Special Friday evening 'Jon is too drunk to write a post with content' bonus link!
Britain's Most Massacred Regiments (thank you Making Light)
Britain's Most Massacred Regiments (thank you Making Light)
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