We played a gig at Kirstens & Vixens 21st last night. It was GREAT! Free alcohol (though I only had 2 beers since Jeff conned me into driving home), food, bands, balloons, speeches! Everyone got dressed formal and looked smart. The camera girl was awesome. Our set was P-H Phat! Great reviews all round. Played some new songs too. 'Stereo City' played and they were good too. Everyone was very cool.
Afterwards we drove to Newtown to meet up with the party people (cuz it finished at 12 so we had to go somewhere) but they weren't there and the bars all smelt like spew. It ended up being the Penrith crew kicking it with nothing to do but go home.
Sunday, February 27
Thursday, February 24
BACK AT HOME!
I'm living back at home. It's sort of good, and sort of tragic.
I get to spend time with the family, mum makes me dinner and I don't have to pay rent, plus my brother has a Gamecube and I can play Zelda. Which is good.
But it also sucks because she complains about her friends all the time, she likes to bitch, there's cockroaches, and she wants to know when I'm getting home and where I've been. It's funny how they don't care about these things when you're not living there., but since I'm 'under her roof'!.. It feels like rehab a bit with no one smoking, and no friends to hack shit on or get shit back!
The trip to Mexico is looking good, I plan to go to Tikal in Antigua Guatemala, it's all these ruins and shit that aren't major tourist hotspots, It should be amazing.
Been talking to Andrew through e-mail and i'm on his mailing list, he's a fellow seeker, who reminds me of Simo and Rachel mixed into one. He likes to say 'Bro', here's a quote he sent me..
Come To the End of Words
Nothing less than the undivided universe can be our
true home. Yet how can one speak or even think about
the whole of things? Language is of only modest help.
Every sentence is a wispy net, capturing a few flecks
of meaning. The sun shines without vocabulary. The
salmon has no name for the urge that drives it
upstream. The newborn groping for the nipple knows
hunger long before it knows a single word. Even with
an entire dictionary in ones head, one eventually
comes to the end of words. Then what? Then drink
deep like the baby, swim like the salmon, burn like
any brief star.
--Scott Russell Sanders, in "Staying Put"
Last week was Chloe's party at the Ori, hung out with her and Kate the mad bitch, Fatty, Austin, Simo, Oska (brazil! what a wired cunt he is) etc.. I saw Floppy today and he was really cool, he was in a good mood cuz he's on his way to watch Velvet Revolver, who'dathunkit??! They're getting supported by the Screaming Jets at the Hordern, awesome.
Oh, and SSFD are playing at the Balmain Leagues Club this Saturday for Kirsten & Vixen 21st with Stereo City, which should be a sweet gig all round. We have to dress formal..
CYA CUZ!
" You can think of this article as opinion, as guess, as fact, as metaphor, as lunacy, as lie, as speculation, as whatever suits you. Be my guest. Im not going to bother labeling it, and Im not going to offer evidence.
Earth, one of the millions or billions of locales that sustain conscious life, is, as a number of science fiction writers have suggested, a prison planet. It may not have been built or seeded to be that, but it became that. It became a place for anomalous individuals who just didnt fit into their home-planet cultures, who fought against tyranny, who took hold of a crazy idea called freedom.
Of course, among the prisoners shipped to Earth over millennia, there were people who had used freedom as an excuse to commit many crimes. Earth has always been a mixed bag. On a considerable number of other planets, art as we know it did not exist. Art was thought of as a crime, an outburst of emotion and intellect proceeding from a warped consciousness, having the effect of stirring up the masses.
On these planets, order was considered the mark of an advanced civilization. Order meant top-down control. Machine order. Cog in wheel order. Every citizen had his place. Appointed. You do this. You do that. Your function is ABV2-4 and nothing else. War, disease, grinding poverty were enemies of order. So over time they were eliminated. They were used as reasons to impose machine order.
A person who rejected the order was killed, re-conditioned, put in prison, or shipped off to a place like Earth. Earth was looked on as a kind of island where the worst characters were sent. It was observed, as an experiment in motion, to see what would emerge from the collection of crazy criminals.
Eventually, it was decided that Earth too needed order, and the first target of that order was human consciousness. The mind. The mind needed to believe that slavery for most was part of the big cosmic plan. A caste system. A gift from God or the gods. A punishment for past sins. Sins committed in one life or over many lives.
The Roman Church and the ruling spiritual force called Hinduism and the religious dynasties of Egypt were three of the most important centers for this mind control. Through an interaction between those Earthly religious leaders and their off-planet patrons, cosmologies were built, rules were instituted, repression was enacted on a large scale, and wealth was accumulated. Myths were woven. Messiah myths, sacrifice myths, guilt myths, obedience myths, salvation myths. Myths about good and evil.
All of these myths played on the desire for liberation. That desire was channeled through the structures of these religious organizations. The desire was given what appeared to be a path into fulfillment. Of course, that was a lie. The paths were just dead ends. They were symbols and images which captured the consciousness of individuals.
Eventually, the whole idea of reincarnation was debunked in the West. It was thought that, if people believed they only lived once, they would feel more bound to the fake liberation myths. They would understand less about their power.
In the East, reincarnation was embroiled in insane notions about a steady progress toward higher and higher castes---depending on ones behavior. One could slip back and become a cricket or a worm, too. Karma. That was one of the great myths. It was created, in part, so that the underclass could look up at their masters and say, “Theyll get their punishment for what theyre doing. No one escapes retribution. Its all about action and reaction.” All of the myths were built to invent order.
Order could be organized around anything. A few huge pointed stones in the desert. A snake with a bite. A priest with a key to heaven in his pocket. A goat with one eye and a limp. A shroud a thousand years old. A candy bar wrapper in a glass case.
The kind of order Im talking about has one great function, at the level of the individual. It makes him think he is looking toward something he wants from the inside of something he doesnt want.
Instead of looking at what he doesnt want from the outside. Order puts people in a place they don’t like, and makes them yearn for escape to a place they’re sure theyll like. A perfect OP.
Planet Earth is an op.
In a sense, the whole UFO phenomenon is working that angle, too. As in, “Were all trapped on this planet and now we see we have visitors from somewhere else. Maybe theyll help us get from here to a better place.” Re-enforcing the notion that human consciousness belongs on Earth and seeks a better destination. On the inside looking out. Thats the op.
Such a good op very few people can imagine any other state of affairs. Then, other ops are set up to puncture the order, which makes people yearn for the order with more intensity. Blow up a building. I wish we could all return to the better time. We need more order.
People become convinced that without the order we have, chaos and crime would reign. Its one or the other. Freedom doesnt really exist. It’s a lie used to promote lawlessness, because look at what people do when they go outside the order. We need a tighter order. No one can handle being outside the order. Impossible. Everyone becomes a McVeigh or an Oswald or a school shooter or a terrorist.
Something, though, about the word SECRET triggers echoes in the mind. People begin to gnaw on this word and dimly suspect we are living inside an op, inside a matrix. People begin to look for clues that will tell them something about how the order is constructed to give the false appearance of a complete and seamless and self-contained landscape.
People begin to pull on tag-ends of clues.
People begin to report experiences of a certain weirdness, experiences that suggest the order is a fake painting that has bamboozled us.
People begin to talk about other dimensions of experience.
And as crazy as that talk may sound, more echoes trigger the mind to think, to explore.
Being part of an op gives one a sense of security. Im playing the right game. Im fitting in. Things are going well. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Im going Home. The tides are in my favor. All will be revealed. The revelation is at hand. The correct currents of energy are carrying me along to where I need to be. Im just a particle in a perfect wave. When Earth was designated a prison, consciousness itself was designated a relatively small space.
Funny thing, but every time I go to a museum, I look at paintings that tell me just the opposite. Consciousness is as wide as it wants to be. It can use harmony and dissonance and who knows what else to build other universes and spaces and times---and even in the bowels of dung-ridden caves, in the dark, there is always someone who picks up a sharp stone and scratches a few shapes on the wall. Saying, “Im not what you think I am.”
And when I go into great cathedrals and see the religious tales portrayed on walls and ceilings and in windows, I see something else there too. I see the total contradiction of what the cathedral stands for. I see the order, the matrix, left behind. I see another universe. Other universes. All over the place, wherever I look. Right there. Gorgeous.
And these paintings say, “This is what freedom can give birth to". You dont have to think about escaping the order through this myth you see portrayed on the wall. What youre seeing is not the myth. Not at all. Its the spontaneous creation of a dimension. The morons who paid to have this fake myth fleshed out received just the opposite.
And so it is. "
JON RAPPOPORT http://www.nomorefakenews.com/
I'm living back at home. It's sort of good, and sort of tragic.
I get to spend time with the family, mum makes me dinner and I don't have to pay rent, plus my brother has a Gamecube and I can play Zelda. Which is good.
But it also sucks because she complains about her friends all the time, she likes to bitch, there's cockroaches, and she wants to know when I'm getting home and where I've been. It's funny how they don't care about these things when you're not living there., but since I'm 'under her roof'!.. It feels like rehab a bit with no one smoking, and no friends to hack shit on or get shit back!
The trip to Mexico is looking good, I plan to go to Tikal in Antigua Guatemala, it's all these ruins and shit that aren't major tourist hotspots, It should be amazing.
Been talking to Andrew through e-mail and i'm on his mailing list, he's a fellow seeker, who reminds me of Simo and Rachel mixed into one. He likes to say 'Bro', here's a quote he sent me..
Come To the End of Words
Nothing less than the undivided universe can be our
true home. Yet how can one speak or even think about
the whole of things? Language is of only modest help.
Every sentence is a wispy net, capturing a few flecks
of meaning. The sun shines without vocabulary. The
salmon has no name for the urge that drives it
upstream. The newborn groping for the nipple knows
hunger long before it knows a single word. Even with
an entire dictionary in ones head, one eventually
comes to the end of words. Then what? Then drink
deep like the baby, swim like the salmon, burn like
any brief star.
--Scott Russell Sanders, in "Staying Put"
Last week was Chloe's party at the Ori, hung out with her and Kate the mad bitch, Fatty, Austin, Simo, Oska (brazil! what a wired cunt he is) etc.. I saw Floppy today and he was really cool, he was in a good mood cuz he's on his way to watch Velvet Revolver, who'dathunkit??! They're getting supported by the Screaming Jets at the Hordern, awesome.
Oh, and SSFD are playing at the Balmain Leagues Club this Saturday for Kirsten & Vixen 21st with Stereo City, which should be a sweet gig all round. We have to dress formal..
CYA CUZ!
" You can think of this article as opinion, as guess, as fact, as metaphor, as lunacy, as lie, as speculation, as whatever suits you. Be my guest. Im not going to bother labeling it, and Im not going to offer evidence.
Earth, one of the millions or billions of locales that sustain conscious life, is, as a number of science fiction writers have suggested, a prison planet. It may not have been built or seeded to be that, but it became that. It became a place for anomalous individuals who just didnt fit into their home-planet cultures, who fought against tyranny, who took hold of a crazy idea called freedom.
Of course, among the prisoners shipped to Earth over millennia, there were people who had used freedom as an excuse to commit many crimes. Earth has always been a mixed bag. On a considerable number of other planets, art as we know it did not exist. Art was thought of as a crime, an outburst of emotion and intellect proceeding from a warped consciousness, having the effect of stirring up the masses.
On these planets, order was considered the mark of an advanced civilization. Order meant top-down control. Machine order. Cog in wheel order. Every citizen had his place. Appointed. You do this. You do that. Your function is ABV2-4 and nothing else. War, disease, grinding poverty were enemies of order. So over time they were eliminated. They were used as reasons to impose machine order.
A person who rejected the order was killed, re-conditioned, put in prison, or shipped off to a place like Earth. Earth was looked on as a kind of island where the worst characters were sent. It was observed, as an experiment in motion, to see what would emerge from the collection of crazy criminals.
Eventually, it was decided that Earth too needed order, and the first target of that order was human consciousness. The mind. The mind needed to believe that slavery for most was part of the big cosmic plan. A caste system. A gift from God or the gods. A punishment for past sins. Sins committed in one life or over many lives.
The Roman Church and the ruling spiritual force called Hinduism and the religious dynasties of Egypt were three of the most important centers for this mind control. Through an interaction between those Earthly religious leaders and their off-planet patrons, cosmologies were built, rules were instituted, repression was enacted on a large scale, and wealth was accumulated. Myths were woven. Messiah myths, sacrifice myths, guilt myths, obedience myths, salvation myths. Myths about good and evil.
All of these myths played on the desire for liberation. That desire was channeled through the structures of these religious organizations. The desire was given what appeared to be a path into fulfillment. Of course, that was a lie. The paths were just dead ends. They were symbols and images which captured the consciousness of individuals.
Eventually, the whole idea of reincarnation was debunked in the West. It was thought that, if people believed they only lived once, they would feel more bound to the fake liberation myths. They would understand less about their power.
In the East, reincarnation was embroiled in insane notions about a steady progress toward higher and higher castes---depending on ones behavior. One could slip back and become a cricket or a worm, too. Karma. That was one of the great myths. It was created, in part, so that the underclass could look up at their masters and say, “Theyll get their punishment for what theyre doing. No one escapes retribution. Its all about action and reaction.” All of the myths were built to invent order.
Order could be organized around anything. A few huge pointed stones in the desert. A snake with a bite. A priest with a key to heaven in his pocket. A goat with one eye and a limp. A shroud a thousand years old. A candy bar wrapper in a glass case.
The kind of order Im talking about has one great function, at the level of the individual. It makes him think he is looking toward something he wants from the inside of something he doesnt want.
Instead of looking at what he doesnt want from the outside. Order puts people in a place they don’t like, and makes them yearn for escape to a place they’re sure theyll like. A perfect OP.
Planet Earth is an op.
In a sense, the whole UFO phenomenon is working that angle, too. As in, “Were all trapped on this planet and now we see we have visitors from somewhere else. Maybe theyll help us get from here to a better place.” Re-enforcing the notion that human consciousness belongs on Earth and seeks a better destination. On the inside looking out. Thats the op.
Such a good op very few people can imagine any other state of affairs. Then, other ops are set up to puncture the order, which makes people yearn for the order with more intensity. Blow up a building. I wish we could all return to the better time. We need more order.
People become convinced that without the order we have, chaos and crime would reign. Its one or the other. Freedom doesnt really exist. It’s a lie used to promote lawlessness, because look at what people do when they go outside the order. We need a tighter order. No one can handle being outside the order. Impossible. Everyone becomes a McVeigh or an Oswald or a school shooter or a terrorist.
Something, though, about the word SECRET triggers echoes in the mind. People begin to gnaw on this word and dimly suspect we are living inside an op, inside a matrix. People begin to look for clues that will tell them something about how the order is constructed to give the false appearance of a complete and seamless and self-contained landscape.
People begin to pull on tag-ends of clues.
People begin to report experiences of a certain weirdness, experiences that suggest the order is a fake painting that has bamboozled us.
People begin to talk about other dimensions of experience.
And as crazy as that talk may sound, more echoes trigger the mind to think, to explore.
Being part of an op gives one a sense of security. Im playing the right game. Im fitting in. Things are going well. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Im going Home. The tides are in my favor. All will be revealed. The revelation is at hand. The correct currents of energy are carrying me along to where I need to be. Im just a particle in a perfect wave. When Earth was designated a prison, consciousness itself was designated a relatively small space.
Funny thing, but every time I go to a museum, I look at paintings that tell me just the opposite. Consciousness is as wide as it wants to be. It can use harmony and dissonance and who knows what else to build other universes and spaces and times---and even in the bowels of dung-ridden caves, in the dark, there is always someone who picks up a sharp stone and scratches a few shapes on the wall. Saying, “Im not what you think I am.”
And when I go into great cathedrals and see the religious tales portrayed on walls and ceilings and in windows, I see something else there too. I see the total contradiction of what the cathedral stands for. I see the order, the matrix, left behind. I see another universe. Other universes. All over the place, wherever I look. Right there. Gorgeous.
And these paintings say, “This is what freedom can give birth to". You dont have to think about escaping the order through this myth you see portrayed on the wall. What youre seeing is not the myth. Not at all. Its the spontaneous creation of a dimension. The morons who paid to have this fake myth fleshed out received just the opposite.
And so it is. "
JON RAPPOPORT http://www.nomorefakenews.com/
Thursday, February 10
Jeff got into a big big fight with Kansas cuz Kansas had the shits over nothing, it got really full on and Jeff got choked and hit in the head. In the end Kansas had a big cry and Jeff put his arm around him. It was a touching moment. My weed got spilt but Kansas replaced it. Moving out is not really much fun. Allan is here. He has on a nice blue shirt. It was his 21st last week.
Sunday, February 6
It is a good life!
Im at Adams house in Cogee after having gone out to Newtown to watch 'The Motorcycle Diaries' with him, Richards and Fatty.
In the last few weeks I got a couple of jobs but didn't show up cuz I couldn't be fucked. I went to a few parties too. Paul had a farewell party at his house, he's going to Queensland. Went to Kims 21st which was also fun, Austin and I dressed up. They had lots of food and I ate it. It was awesome.
Recorded a 3 track demo with Budge & Case.
Gotta move out soon.
Last night I went to the Mean Fiddler and had a good time. Danced with Kate, talked to Ainsworth, met a bunch of dudes. Badass hangover..
Been living off mi-go-reng noodlez, im dead broke.
Im thinking about going to university to study 'Social and Cultural Analysis' which sounds interesting, Austin is going to Uni too so we can become frat boys and pull pranks on the dean.
Came up with a band name, 'BNAFG' which stands for 'Band Names Are For Girls'. Genus!
Ok Im Out.
Im at Adams house in Cogee after having gone out to Newtown to watch 'The Motorcycle Diaries' with him, Richards and Fatty.
In the last few weeks I got a couple of jobs but didn't show up cuz I couldn't be fucked. I went to a few parties too. Paul had a farewell party at his house, he's going to Queensland. Went to Kims 21st which was also fun, Austin and I dressed up. They had lots of food and I ate it. It was awesome.
Recorded a 3 track demo with Budge & Case.
Gotta move out soon.
Last night I went to the Mean Fiddler and had a good time. Danced with Kate, talked to Ainsworth, met a bunch of dudes. Badass hangover..
Been living off mi-go-reng noodlez, im dead broke.
Im thinking about going to university to study 'Social and Cultural Analysis' which sounds interesting, Austin is going to Uni too so we can become frat boys and pull pranks on the dean.
Came up with a band name, 'BNAFG' which stands for 'Band Names Are For Girls'. Genus!
Ok Im Out.
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