chilli oatmeal

bore witness to the glorious, hmynal noise of the new pornographers last night at the venerable and salubrious st kilda venue, the prince of wales hotel. the oxymoronic indie-supergroup minus destroyer/swan lake's dan bejar were supported by the chiming indie-pop of local act the crayon fields, whose appearance motivated one of my fellow gig-goers to state that she was prepared to bet large sums none of the four-piece line-up got laid in high-school. further furnishing my theory that indie-girls are way hotter than their undeserving indie male counterparts. the headliners came on strong opening with sing me spanish techno, the laws have changed, jackie dressed in cobras, and the bleeding heart show on which they achieved transcendental joy. what followed was a sublime display of crunchy power-pop ably assisted by the bellowing purity of noir-country chanteuse neko case's vocals which seemed incongruously disproportionate. none of the shittiness, predicted in a show of faux-modesty, presented itself. in its place we were treated to a cacophonous example of noise-pop delivered by a professional outfit who knew exactly how good their songs were and who did no disservice to them. there was no pomp or pageantry, the unadorned stage filled with what looked like middle-aged kids rocking out, but who needs to look good when you can sound this tight particularly in the service of music's harshest mistress; the pop song.

a roller-skating jam named saturday

incognito, i arrived, bantered, parted with the requisite sum and duly had arranged prospective activities. what did become of tuesdays? in a rare show of spontaneity, suddenly i was wondering whether they explained to the children of collingwood that cow equals beef (chicken, of course, still equals chicken; and pig, well that's just a magical animal). a presidential moment; what is a good price to pay for pumpkin and poppy-seed papardelle? and did they choose papardelle because of its alliterative possibility? following some logistical faffing, it was decided that my afternoon would be spent in the company of mr daniel craig and in the comfort of the art-deco surrounds of the rivoli theatre. amid action scenes that adequately served their purpose, the psychology of bond, a broken man, was superficially explored. notably few of the cliches associated with the franchise were present and the inclusion of relatively confronting and graphic violent scenes broke significantly with tradition. lumbered with the bond mythology was, i felt, disadvantageous as the film could not be viewed without expectation or judged in isolation. had it been possible to do this, my opinion would have been undoubtedly and overwhelmingly favourable but comparisons are always smelly. my margaret felt the degree to which conventions were broken and the endeavour to recast the protagonist was an asset to the film. one man's meat is another man's tomatoe. actually, it's probably dan quayle's tomato. two dinners ensued, the latter of which in notting hill thankfully did not feature academy-award-winner julia roberts. the quarrel in coral gables was revisisted thanks to the incisive coverage of the daily show thus fulfilling my daily dietary requirement for disjointed socio-political commentary. and when wifey passed out, we duly departed and two dudes, who are completely unqualified to do so, navigated the pitfalls of post-modernity in a conversation that can only be described as pretentious. fitting, really

seems apt now

CELEMTINE: Face it, Joel. You're freaked out because I was out late without you, and in your little wormy brain, you're trying to figure out, did she fuck someone tonight?

JOEL: No, see, Clem, I assume you fucked someone tonight. Isn't that how you get people to like you?

further flagrant disregard for originality presented in a litany of borrowed phrasings and sentiments...

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd

-Eloisa to Abelard by Alexander Pope

hope springs eternal...

G.O.A.T.

"I too have known joy and sadness, and, on the whole, I prefer joy"

-Ashleigh Brilliant (English Author and Cartoonist, b.1933)