Orfeu Negro

If you haven't seen the 1959 film "Black Orpheus", please do yourself a favour. Besides the shameless perve on Brazilian beauties of both genders, the film has a famously beautiful soundtrack by Luis Bonfa and Antonio Carlos Jobim, both seminal figures in the Bossa Nova movement. Set in a 1959 Rio favela during Carneval, it is both aurally and visually sublime - messy, lusty, colourful, real. Also, I would very much like to bone Breno Mello. I think he is dead now but.

Super Fertile

Fucking RAD jewellery range from Kali Arulpragsam (M.I.A's sister).

Check out www.superfertile.com

Clones! Clones! Musical Clones!

Has anyone else noticed the striking similarities between Miley Cyrus, Katy Perry and Ke$ha? Besides the fact that one is a Christian, one is Zooey Deschanel's doppelganger and the other is a trashbag, there is a resemblance that seems glaringly obvious to me. Earlier this evening I was doing my systematic pop-chart checkup on www.billboard.com, when I noticed that "Your Love is my Drug" by Ke$ha, "Can't Be Tamed" by Miley Cyrus and "California Gurls" by Katy Perry (which are all currently in the Top 10) sound EXACTLY.THE.SAME. Could it be the fact that the majority of these girls' hits (as well as those of Britney, Avril, Pink and Lady Sovereign to name a few) are actually written and produced by American songwriter and record producer Lukasz Gottwald, a.k.a. Dr. Luke? I don't know, maybe it's that I just don't get pop music nuance these days.

Perhaps the real issue here isn't Dr. Luke. Dr. Luke is a genius. The problem is, Dr. Luke knows what to do to sell tracks. What people are buying now is inane lyrics about going out on the town or falling in love for 10 seconds, put to a trashy, over-compressed electro beat. And as long as people are buying it, Dr. Luke will be selling it.

I do not hate pop music. In fact, I really really love it. There is a lot to be said for Drake at the moment just btw. What I hate is the subsequent self-perpetuating herd mentality that divides and multiplies, divides and multiplies, both within the industry and amongst the consumers. Dr. Luke is a cog in the wheel - it's about supply and demand, and the demand for this shit is there. The light at the end of the tunnel, for me anyway, is GaGa. Say what you will about her, at least she's not a coward hiding amongst the hipster electro-fluff.

GaGa

Okay, so it's official. I love Lady GaGa. There I said it!

Whilst I find her music repulsively over-produced, with recorded vocals that in no way reflect her true vocal ability, I still think she is a fucking LEGEND. I do not feel that I need to explain this - research for yourselves, and you too will see the light. All I will add is this picture of her in a stunning piece of Jean-Paul Gaultier couture which, admittedly, is more of a credit to him for designing it... nonetheless, big props to GaGa for rocking it sans pants at the 2010 VMAs.

Pretentious Poetry

I am fucking sick of pretentious poetry.  Long strings of rare adjectives and vague metaphors do not impress me.  For the writers of these pretentious poems, I have attached the following humble and delightful piece by Billy Collins.

INTRODUCTION TO POETRY

I ask them to take a poem

and hold it up to the light

like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski

across the surface of a poem

waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose

to find out what it really means.

Mameshiba

Chronic Haiku

O lovely Chronic
Thou hailest from Nimbin town
Blaze on son, blaze on.

I AM STONED AS A MOTHERFUCKER.

Leaving

I am home now, but my heart still beats for ol' Melbourne town.

I cried at the airport. Not just because I was coming down from a big night out - because I didn't want to leave. Over the course of a month the place had assimilated me, and now I was tearing myself away, painfully, wrongfully. I didn't want to come to the airport. I didn't come here to pay a $70 excess baggage fee, nor did I come here to be told I couldn't take musical instruments as carry-on baggage. I came to this hellhole to reluctantly leave, and that I did. So I cried in front of passing hostesses, pilots, passengers. Saying goodbye sucks.

David Shrigley

Check out this artist from Glasgow - his work is hilarious.

The Trifecta

ANDRE 3000.  

PHARRELL.

PRINCE.

Now go cream yo selves ladies.

Evolution

As much as I'd like to think I've matured and evolved as an intelligent, spiritual human being, I still can't deny that I fricken LOVE shoes.  This doesn't do a lot for feminism generally, but who gives a crap.  I just bought a pair of chunky black platform stilettos covered in zips and metal rings, and goddamn I look like I could kick some friggedy ass in them.  

Cowardice

Cowardice: the perceived failure to demonstrate sufficient robustness in the face of a challenging situation.  "To see the right and not to do it is cowardice." (Confucius)

Some may argue that in certain situations it can be difficult to "see the right" as Confucius puts it.  This, in my humble opinion, is a crock of shit.

Have we become so fucking new age postmodern glib that we have lost interest in truly endeavouring to understand how other people think and feel?  Sometimes it seems too much of a challenge to look beyond our own perspective when me make choices about our actions.  

Are we not 'robust' enough for a little compromise?

Don't get me wrong now, I am a big fan of looking out for Number One.  An important part of that is making sure Number One feels good about Number One.  Which means trying my darndest not to be a Class A fuckwit.  That is all.