Cry Freedom West Papua Benefit Party

And just when I was congratulating myself on culling all my readers down to a tiny, managable elite, I remembered this:

Which is by way of saying:

Come along and support West Papua struggle for Freedom and help make the journey to the UN!

The West Papuans will be taking their case to the UN in New York in October to present their case for a free and independent nation from Indonesian rule. They wish to join the Decolonization List - a la East Timor.

The money raised will go towards their trip and donated to the Free West Papua Association based in Fitzroy. While in NY the West Papuan community will be going to present their case to the UN, taking their plight to the World Council of Churches, visiting Universities and holding an arts exhibition with live carving.

The night will feature West Papuan food and bar.

ACTS:

Ganga Giri

Lady Lash

Pataphysics

Cassowary Dancers

Comrade Dubs

So Fire

Binghi Fire

and more!

$10 concession
$15 waged and generous

freewestpapua.com.au

Now: anticipating your shock and/or awe at this amazing line-up, can I just say [for the record] that I don't wanna hear any bitching or complaining about nationalism, the UN, what "anarchists" should "support" or whether there will be vegan food there or not.

I just wanna see you* get your groove on down at the Fitzroy Town Hall tomorrow night.

Is that so much to ask?

No. No, it's not so much to ask.

Oh, what now?

WHAT?

That's at least 24 hours notice, what more do you want from me?



*Not you, [e]stalkers, you suck bad.

"I Am With The Taliban"

I know, but I am.


But it's not like I hate you for your freedom or whatever.




Although it wouldn't fucking kill you to read a bit more Jung now and then:

Observance of customs and laws can very easily be a cloak for a lie so subtle that our fellow human beings are unable to detect it. It may help us to escape all criticism, we may even be able to deceive ourselves in the belief of our obvious righteousness. But deep down, below the surface of the average man’s conscience, he hears a voice whispering, ‘There is something not right,’ no matter how much his rightness is supported by public opinion or by the moral code.

Just sayin' is all.

Small Potatoes Culture Jam

So here I am, almost 4 years and over 600 posts into this blog when suddenly I'm all like, you know what: fuck blogging.

It's official! I have run out of shit to say.

Then I get this email saying, broadly:


dear anonymous internet hero [that would be me],

your blog is banned in my high school, that sucks bad, just sayin' is all.

signed: some lonely young punk, turd creek USA, population 12.



Well, I paraphrase, but you know.

And just what am I supposed to think about that?



I'll tell you what I think about that. I think if they ["they!"] didn't ban this blog, your entire fucking country would be overpopulated by bloggers.

Is that what you want: some hideous land of the bloggers?


And you, unable to leave your house?

Bloggers: wandering up to you, stabbing you in the guts?



Is that what you desire?



Looking out across your lawn to see blogger upon blogger, prowling along your street, flicking the finger at you, walking hand in hand with terrorists?




IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?

I have now run out of shit to say.

THE END

Words Are Pictures #3 : Medley Of Spirituals

Alternative title: Must Stop "Blogging" Drunk


Part I: My Slum Thesis

So, anyway, words are pictures.

I know, but they totally are.

Words are pictures.

Which is why wiser people than me have claimed [and still maintain] that language is a very powerful thing.

It speaks of the secret and mysterious attraction between people and places and objects and events.

Which is why I have claimed [and still maintain] that we need to create an entirely new language if we are ever gonna get out of this empire.

[Because you know I don't understand a fucking thing any of you say.]



Part II: Words Are Pictures


So, anyway, words are pictures.

Like this:



I wrote a poem about how words are pictures.

[No, I didn't, but I think that reads better than if I say: I got drunk and wrote any old shit and typed it out mostly in lower case with hardly any punctuation like I think I'm fucking ee cummings or some shit like that.]


Part III: Medley Of Spirituals

words are pictures

look and you will see, i said:

wiser people than me have claimed [and still maintain] that language is a very powerful thing

it speaks of the secret and mysterious attraction between people and places and objects and events

i have claimed [and still maintain] that we need to create an entirely new language if we are ever gonna get out of this empire

i say: fuck it

GO WITH THE FLOW

wait, that wasn't meant to be all in capitals

wait, i say: fuck it

go with the flow

sometimes i just like to go with the flow

not literally

ha! ha! ha!

words are pictures

THE END!

Try to dig what I'm layin' down for you:

1] Words Are Pictures
2] Words Are Pictures #2: What I Wish I'd Said
3] Melbourne Shall Be Your New Mecca #11: Words Are Pictures
4] Don't Try To Solve Important Mysteries In The Middle Of The Night #2: Words Are Pictures
5] Words Are Pictures #2: What I Wish I'd Said
6] Slum Thesis #4: Words Are Pictures

Irony versus YOU

In the world of words, one of my best-loved tribes is the diatribe.

Edward Abbey



So anyway, punk is dead.




Who fucked it up?

That's right.

THAT'S RIGHT!

You fucked it up, that's who fucked it up.

[We all had a meeting behind your back and agreed it would be better if I broke the news to you like this.]




Previous posts using punk being dead and you fucking it up as a theme or motif:

1] VENCEREMOS!

2] Great Light Will Return

3] Fear Fear Fear Fear Fear/What I Wish I'd Said