Audrey Stood Me Up.

She didn't come. I'm devastated. I even took the flyscreen off and left a plate of bon-bons beside my bed. This birthday has been even worse than the time when I was given nothing but Gomez cds: the entire back catalogue, b-sides, magazine interviews, live albums, and that rare one that just has the vocal tracks on it. Eeeggghhh.

Peace+Love+Mung Beans = Spiritual Overload

I love books by hippies. I fucking love them. No, you're not listening...

Take The Alchemist for example. Nobody without drugs in their system could have written like that. To hold the reader in suspense (!) for a hundred pages and then suggest some bullshit conclusion like "that thing you seek is where you began the journey." (spoiler ends here). Fucking brilliant! I wish I could write like that. Anyone got any mescaline?
All I need, I reckon, is a rudimentary understanding of the original pop psychologist, C.G. Jung - maybe I could get that from the astrology pages of The Daily Telegraph - a dictionary of dreams or some shit, and an encyclopaedia of Celtic mythology. AND a shitload of cannabis and some time to "think." And a shitload of dim sims. Delivered by Jeremy Sims. Okay, now I'm getting picky - Audrey Tautou will do (I suppose).
I love books by hippies because they reduce the complexity and suffering of human beings into a beautifully woven, if ill-conceived paradigm of pagan discourse, eastern religion, and anything vaguely "spiritual." It's amazing what conclusions one can arrive at by dropping out of society and changing your name to "Tree."
Basically if it's not western and/or modern, throw it in! (Unless it's written by the grandaddy of pop psychology, C.G. Jung):

Jung is the master,
To understand faster,
The purpose of human existence.
Once you've done that,
Store your yoga mat,
In a cupboard and eat last night's couscous.

I copied down The Bhagavad-Gita,
And it is very much neater than yours.
You really shoulda written it calmly
Like the Buddha woulda, measured and dharmly.
But then, but then -
Don't forget Zen!
Zen is for you, 'less you'd prefer Hindu

For all of my cares about ontology
I'll go and bone up on Pagan mythology.

Bachelor Wishes

BK turns 27 this week! Yay! So with celebrating another revolution of our middle-aged rocky sphere around our similarly middle-aged and decaying star (and my corresponding survival on said rocky sphere), BK will not be posting for at least a week! He's also got some stuff to do regarding smethics and a looming assignment, which you are distracting him from completing. Stop leaving comments and sending fan mail!!! Please! I would like to respond to you all but I've run out of stamps!

I know you're meant to wait until you're actually cutting the cake before you do this but (clenches teeth, squeezes eyes shut) I wish for Audrey Tautou to fly through my bedroom window on Wednesday night.

Pray for me, readers.

Ethics Shmethics

What to do? What to do? What would Jesus, the Buddha, Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny do?
Everyone asks the question at some stage in their lives: do we stock the Harry Potter book or not? Do we go for profits or do we placate the noisy minority of St. Augustine wannabees and concede that Daniel Radcliffe is in fact the devil in disguise? I don't care, and neither should you. So I'd stock it in the interests of materialism, if nothing else. Oh yeah, and free speech, the right to information, the courtesy of giving people the opportunity to make their own minds up, and the fact that we shouldn't actually take fiction seriously unless it's a John Grisham thriller! Ooooh, this one's a "real page-turner." No, wait, now it's "unputdownable."

So which horsy do I back? The tried-and-tested, if a little quaint, Aristotelian virtue-based approach? "What on earth's a virtue?" I hear you say. Some ancient Greek thing? Or, the Kantian doctrine of the categorical imperative; a duty based theory? OR, the "whatever makes most people the happiest" approach of JS Mill and the Utilitarians? I've certainly considered Kant; in fact I spent the better part of this afternoon considering it, in between the hourly news broadcasts on the ABC. That Peta Collins... phwoaar!

Happy weekend readers.

She's In Control

This is the new sound
We came to get down
Our name is Chromeo
And we are in control.

I have a few issues with the opening lines of Chromeo's 2004 debut record. I don't believe that they are entirely accurate in their assertions.

This is the new sound

That's debateable. The digitised vocal effect was made popular years ago by Daft Punk - most of Discovery contains a digitised vocal track - and furthermore The Buggles mastered it years before that in Video Killed the Radio Star. In fact, there was a digital effect in The Beatles' Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds (cellophane flowers of yellow and green anyone?). So what exactly is new about She's In Control? The shuffling dance beat is reminiscent of the house music at its peak in the late 90s, and the melody is staid and boring - and there's nothing new in that. If I wanted staid and boring I'd go and buy something by Gomez. The new sound? I think not. We'll move on.

We came to get down

You may well have done so fellas. I won't stop you from trying. I can recommend Underworld or New Order circa 1986 to help you "get down."

Our name is Chromeo

I know! I know that because it says so on the album cover and again on the CD itself. I've always been suspiscous of bands that tell you who they are in the opening lines of their first track. Between the time that one closes the CD player and the time that the first track begins, I bet that 9 out of 10 people remember the name of the group that they've chosen to put on, and I reckon a fair swathe of them could give you the name of the album as well. The keen amongst us will give you the name of the first track and true believers will even remember how many minutes and seconds it goes for.

And we are in control

Now that I don't believe. Don't try your Jedi mind games on me. You can't just say that you're in control and expect to take the reins just like that. I thought "she" was in control anyway. Now you're telling me you are? I'm confused! Who do I report to if I cut my finger?

When I wrote a review of a cd for the student newspaper in 1999, readers wanted to know two things - who is this new writer and will you please please please promise to never ever let him near your publication again. Some correspondents even said "please" a fourth time. Everyone's a critic...

The album referred to is a good listen. 3 stars. The name "Chromeo" had stuck in my mind for almost 3 years as I'd heard them on the radio back in 2 double 0 4 and, like a good nerd, wrote their name down in my shiny new student diary. (10am - 2094 lecture, 11am - one hour's "fitness appreciation" on library lawn - phwooooaaaaaarrr! Note to self: wear tracksuit pants.) Years later I retrieved said diary and bought the CD just like that! Comme ca!!!
Anyway, it's good music to paint a house to. Needy Girl is a catchy little ditty with cool electronic beats. All of the tracks have electronic beats, it's just that Needy Girl's is cooler than the rest. That's why it was the single. Maybe that's why I'm single? That's enough out of me. Bye, readers.

Jism, TISM, and socialism

Just how much truth is there in the refrain, taken from the 1995 smash hit "Greg! The Stop Sign!! "

Hardwired into everyone's head
Is the person they're gonna be -
Growing up is not a matter of choice,
It's a matter of wait and see. ?

If personality is determined at birth, as the TISM song suggests, then why? And given that our brain gives rise to our mind and our personality, why can't we push the argument for predestination a little further and consider its application in other areas of genuine insight - physics, chemistry, geology, and scientology, for instance? If I have understood the implications of Newtonian mechanics correctly, the clockwork like movements of large bodies in the universe like planets, suns, and galaxies, were set in motion by the supreme watchmaker, God, at the moment of creation, and all matter within the universe follows a given path unless a force acts upon it. All atoms. Even the atoms within our heads, the ones that constitute our delicate little porridge-coloured brains. And by extension, the atoms within that give rise to our conscious experience - all of our love and our sorrow, happiness, fear and surprise, through to the concern and pity we feel when someone claims that they enjoy golf. All movements and events were set in motion and determined at year zero. The birth of Socratic philosophy - predetermined. Millions of men fighting and dying in WWI - predetermined. Me still giggling at the title for this post - predetermined. It was of course a matter for theologians throughout the centuries to determine just how much free will we have as bipedal, thinking, rational human beings. And their consensus, surprise surprise, seems to be that we have loads of free will because they think (my italics) that God wants to see us make the choice to live a life which would make Jesus proud. But we all work with a personality which binds us, which gives us certain strengths and weaknesses. I am not capable of many, many things, which, among many, many other things, proves that you just can't trust a theologian.

I'm adhering to the TISM/Newtonian mechanics route: everything in my life was determined at conception, and I am one of many possible outcomes from a random expulsion of jism. Therefore, I renege all responsibility for everything in my life for the rest of my life, and until the aim of human evolution is attained, socialism, a system under which every man gets what he needs (Audrey Tautou materialising in this room and at this very moment) and contributes what he can (homebrew), I defend my right to swear, cheat, lie, drink, womanise, gamble, steal, dance the Macarena and force my neighbours to listen to U2 over and over and fucking over again.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Baroque 'n' Roll

At what age does someone like Angry Anderson admit that he's no longer pissed off about stuff and change his name? "Xanax Anderson" doesn't quite have the same ring to it, but surely it can't be too long before he's browsing the Naxos collection down at Sanity for some lovely Vivaldi and/or J.S. Bach. I can foresee a day not too far off when he calls a press conference to announce that he's "no longer Angry," as it requires far too much effort: Thinking of cynical comebacks and other witty retorts all the time gets in the way of your mental health and in the end it is untenable. Sometimes you just feel like letting the crap deliveries go through to the 'keeper after all.

I can see that he'll be at barbeques where people will ask him what his name is and what he does, and it will no longer require the refrain "I'm angry" to account for both questions. In the future, Angry will have a real interest in learning about the people he meets and hope that his past as an angry rocker doesn't harm his chances of getting to play Santa Claus at Westfield.

As for Peter Garrett, well, his dancing routine in parliament the other day made for the best question time I've seen in years! And he would make a really bloody scary Santa Claus, by the way.

A Wedding March In Early April

Sarah gets married tonight. Bachelor Kisses sends a big shout-out to the bride and groom, and their families and friends.
Getting to know people with whom you have something in common besides gravity is one of life's most satisfying pleasures. Have you ever met someone and wasted no time before getting to the things that really matter? What matters to you? To me, it's knowing that the Tigers have an injury-free bench for the coming weekend, and having enough cash in my wallet to pick up some fags and a case of tinnies for the Friday night fixture. No, that's a joke, and you fell for it.
I'm thinking about the kinds of people with whom conversations about the everyday take on an aura of interest, because you've already established the groundwork by discussing the big issues. To me, that's knowing that the Swans have an injury-free bench and a kick-arse banner to run through before the start of the match. No, that's another joke. And you fell for it.
C. and A. and I began swapping stories and music and videos when I began shuffling about in their garden 4 weeks ago in preparation for the lovely Sarah's wedding. There was an instant bond: I didn't see the point in concealing anything from them; they responded in kind with total acceptance. I haven't worn my heart on my sleeve for years; the last time I did she kindly explained that her boyfriend earned shitloads more than I did and didn't live in "a crappy flat" either (my italics). My flat was lovely of course, situated underneath a flat number 15, occupied by the entire Scottish front row pack (substitutes included) whose hobbies included fighting, drinking and shouting shit out, and humping poor lassies on really bloody squeaky mattresses. The next day, bleary eyed at work, I had to answer loads of questions by explaining that it was not in my nature to discourage people from amorousness, particularly when the people in question were so bloody big. I couldn't very well knock on their door and request that they "shag with less enthusiasm." Could I?
Anyway, here's to more people with stuff in common with each other. Like the hope that the Wolves are currently injury-free...