Monday, January 19, 2009

fat kid loves dreams

Wolfs in an adventurer, in particular of cafes. Her recents excapes launches her to a place close to home, or at least was her home until she found the City Library. Yes that's right! The attache of the State Library (of Victoria, Australia): Mr. Tulk.

First impressions were a warped sense of nostalgia- the place resembled the interiors of the library itself. A rather cruel trick perhaps, but very effective and elegantly done. The design screams of Melbourne. Or perhaps considering the life of the cafe during lunch breaks, mutters wittyly of Melbourne with raised eyebrows and a hint of a smile over newpapers (The Age or the Australian only, the Herald Sun is shunned).

I love the lightbulbs in the above photo, but wonder how they keep up with the energy bills and if they realise the impact of their carbon footprint. But then I think of how good it looks and decide to let materialism take over.

Food itself was not as pretty as Koko Black but very much more lunch worthy, if you know what I mean. Chocolate is great but it just doesn't hit the spot as well as a poached chicken baguette

or perhaps a pork and chickpea soup with yoghurt.

Okay, so sure these arn't as pretty as the foodstuff of Koko Black, but you know, inner beauty. Let me just say, that chicken baguette though definately not the most prettiest thing I've seen was pretty amazing. For bonus points, I didn't experience that awakward moment towards the end when you realise that you've devoured more bread than recommended for bread-insides ratio either. Pretty sweet.

source:,, own


[as seen in]


*** just for fun, see how many references to comic books I can make in this piece, it will be more interesting than actually reading it.

No one ever writes songs about sidekicks, nor are they ever the ones who get the girl. Sure they might lend a helping hand here and there, but really they’re just there for light comic relief and exclamatory lines such as “Jiminy jillickers”. Now that I think about it, sidekicks are the predecessors to token black guy in teen movies who also functions for light comic relief and exclamatory lines such as “Day-yuum” and “that’s whack”.

That being said, I love the sidekick. Maybe it’s my personal underdoggish ways subconsciously seeking a like-minded person to reveal my underdoggish secrets to. Or maybe it’s my Australian underdoggish convict ways seeking a like-minded person to steal things with. Or maybe…yeah I don’t know.

Sidekicks, they’re like the parsley that adds colour to your creamy creamy butter pumpkin soup served at the Press Club. “Oh”, you will exclaim, “how delightful.” You will marvel at the ability of a single green sprout to complete a dish so. But upon tasting the actual soup you will think to yourself, “this is the bomb, the shit!” and spoon the parsley aside in order to gain greater access. You will also consider lifting the bowl off the table and chugging the thing down like you did with congee when you were five and lived in China.

And that’s the thing with sidekicks. They complete the story in exactly the same way that parsley completes a pumpkin soup. Sure you can have the soup without it, but something just wouldn’t feel right. The soup will taste the same- just as creamy, just as pumpkin-y and just as awesome, but as the last spoonful of golden goodness enters your mouth you can’t help but feel like something’s missing. Just like in the stories, for the split second that the sidekick rescues the hero you will think, “Wow! You are great! I want to have your babies!” But as soon as you get a taste for the true awesome powers of the hero, the sidekick will be brushed aside scooped out and dumped on the extra soft three-ply serviettes, its previous glory long gone. But no more, I say! Here today on the World Wide Web is a tribute to the unsung heroes of this cruel and unjust world. Sidekicks, you may not be as good looking or intelligent or as strong as the main character, but you in your own ways - you complete them.

As for me, I’ve never actually dined at the Press Club before, but when I do, let pumpkin soup be what I order. And if they so happen to add the superfluous yet undeniably essential lone sprout of parsley, super.

wolfs. lover of soup

Friday, January 16, 2009

The Discovery Channel - Drunk & Disorderly


'Dude, why did you undress him man', 'I didn't, he did it himself', 'Bullshit Tim, why would he do that?', 'Cuz he's a fucking retard!'

Love that back piece man, when did you get it? Don't remember?

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

interviews - Empowered Women

Heroines of the feminist movement have long shared the label of Empowered Women. They’re the ones willing to give the finger to patriarchal conventions and speak out for what they want. Through a somewhat perverted shift (imho) in social values however, women in the sex industry have recently come to share that label also. Whilst the theme of breaking taboos is common to both feminists and those in the sex industry, other commonalities seem much harder to determine. In light of this challenge, DeeTu talked to an anonymous member of Melbourne’s Sisterhood group, who incidentally also works as a dominatrix at a gentlemen’s club in Fitzroy.

DeeTu: Hi, is this a good time to talk?

Mistress Donna: Yep, just give me a minute.

Okay. (a long time later)…are you still there?

…Hi! I’m back.

How was your day?

I had work but it was pretty good. A couple of my regulars came in and tipped real big. Which was nice.

Oh right. You work two jobs right? At the club and at Sisterhood?

Yeah, I’m a part-timer the Sisterhood support group.

I’m sure you get this a lot, but isn’t there a slight conflict in being involved in a women activist group while also working as an erotic dancer on the side? Isn’t the feminist movement was all about elevating the image of women to be above sex dolls and housewives.

No, no. I guess, yeah. There is a bit of a conflict if you see it as that whole ‘selling my body’ thing. But nowadays a lot of the girls here are working students. We’re here by our free will and are very comfortable with our bodies. We’re very much aware of our boundaries, and it’s a safe atmosphere at the club- -

But isn’t there still an element in your work which depraves the female image? Or is that just an ignorant male assumptions on my part.

Ha ha ha. Don’t worry I know what you mean. It’s that whole selling your body thing again. You have to keep in mind that things have changed. While I wouldn’t openly brag about my night job at Sisterhood, there is definitely a ….uhhh a more open mentality there towards how women can use their bodies. I mean, I’ve told some of the girls there at Sisterhood about my work, and they were very supportive. At the end of the day, we’re not just about getting equality at work anymore. Our, I guess, philosophy has become a lot broader. It’s more focussed on breaking social taboos so that women can feel comfortable doing anything. And that includes working in the sex industry. I mean, there’s a whole lot less hoohaa about guys working in clubs. And it’s that kind of equality and social acceptance which Sisterhood really pushes for.

…Wow. I feel out of my league here. But um, so knowing what you know, and embracing that Sisterhood philosophy, how do you feel when you’re working at the club?

Well, firstly, that ‘philosophy’ (about elimination all social taboos) isn’t limited to just Sisterhood. A lot of other support groups have adopted it as well. But back to your question. Obviously I don’t feed all that empowering women stuff to my clients. It’s peeler club after all, and most of them would settle for just head. But I find that I can channel some of our Sisterhood stuff into my work, because there are clients who get off on a whipping from a bull dyke feminist. But I definitely don’t carry that ‘I’m selling my body’ mindset into work, because I’m comfortable with my body and I can use it to my advantage without getting hurt.

So is it because of your involvement with your support groups who helped you get comfortable with your body or - -

No, I think it’s more of a personality thing mainly, but being involved in Sisterhood has definitely helped as well.

So were you involved with Sisterhood first?

Well, I used to work at this other club down Bourke street. And two dykes pretty much assaulted me on the way to work one day, simply because they felt I was a ‘traitor’ to their movement. You know, it was weeding out the bad blood kind of thing. Lucky for them, I was an open minded girl and did some research after that and read into some women support groups. I found my self agreeing with what they were saying, and I joined. So basically, I’m a convert!

Did you see them again after that?

The dykes? Yeah, they came down to the club a couple of times after they found out I joined a support group. They were quite friendly after that.

Funny that. Do you think working as a dancer helped you to appreciate the feminist cause more?

Umm, I guess in a way, yes. Because I see a lot of dirty old men (laughs). No, it would be more because I see so many young girls who have totally lost their self-respect. In that way, it makes me more motivated to get involved. But, I can’t really say it makes me more appreciative of activism than others, because different people have different motivations for being involved in support groups. There’s rape victims, single mum’s, the list goes on, but we all share the same hopes for the future.

And you’re all obviously very committed.

Definitely. We say it’s like getting married. But we all make time for it to help out at Sisterhood. It’s encouraging to see so many girls getting involved. But at the same time, we all know that the road to true equality is still a long one.

It seems like it. Thanks for your time, I don’t know really how to close off a conversation like this, see you later sounds kind of inappropriate. Um, good luck?

(Laughs) Thank you, but we won’t need it.


open your eyes sinner

If a group of young people call themselves 2G, what is the first thing that comes to your mind? I thought rap group, or a counterstrike family. As I found out later, 2G stands for Second Generation, a Christian youth service for young adults over 18. Inside the community hall, dark lighting and soft music suggest more of a high school social than a church service. This is really different, I thought.

According to the Times, Christianity is one of few religions enjoying a growing support base of young followers under the age of 30. The number of incredibly fashionable young women at 2G is testament to that fact. However, while vanity and piety aren’t exact opposites in my book, I was expecting a much more demur show of leg. But like many things, religion has sought to modernise its image to reconcile with today’s youth. You can’t scold a child for its dress if they are to carry on your name.

Not that anyone at 2G would trade Christ for a skimpy outfit. In fact, their faith is astonishing. The pastor’s prayer evokes many a raised arm, while murmurs of ‘yes, Lord’ brim with promise and sincerity. For a minute, I felt uncomfortably left out. Asked what Christianity means to them, youths at 2G point out that religion is an inappropriate term to describe their faith. ‘I would call it a relationship’, one girl said, referring to living a life devoted to maintain a deeply personal connection with Christ, as opposed to leading a generically pious lifestyles according to the Ten Commandments. Regardless of its links to Christ, relational is definitely the word to describe Christian support groups like 2G. The sense of belonging there transcends feelings of comfort. It’s absolutely electric. The room exudes the feel of common purpose and faith. There, the pop-y pre-service songs are transformed into stirring gospels, the pastor into an empowering orator. Whether Christian or not, it is hard to not be attracted to 2G.

As an interested agnostic, my opinion of Christianity has always been that it’s a relatively ‘easy’ religion. By believing that Christ’s death eradicates the consequences of sin from Man, Christian people can, essentially, sin without consequence. They don’t even have to repent, a function performed by confessions in Catholicism. I thought that must be the key to Christianity’s strong youth support. In an age of instant gratification, the promise of a joy ride through life followed by a ticket to Heaven is surely too good to pass up. ‘Yes, it may seem like Christianity is not so much about ‘earning’ your way. But as sincere Christians, we value our faith dearly. And our attitudes and actions reflect that.’ The girl who said this admits to questioning the validity of her faith a few years back. When asked what made her return, she recalls reading a piece of scripture themed in Doubt, and attributing that incident as a heavenly sign calling for a renewal of faith from her.

Personally though, I never thought the question of whether God truly exists is central non-believers’ choice to distance ourselves from religion. I, and perhaps others, choose to remain unreligious as God is irrelevant in my life. I simply don’t have the need to believe in God in my life. ‘Believing in God gives me a sense of purpose.’ That was a common reply at 2G. But what is this purpose? To be a good person? To lead a devoted life to go to Heaven? During his sermon, pastor Misso spoke of how ‘Jesus is the reason for me to change. To make my two-oh-oh-nine different to my two-oh-oh-eight.’ He then spoke of weight loss. As a staunch individualist and liberal agnostic, I would have contended that pure human determination would have been just as good as a promise to Jesus in maintaining a healthier lifestyle. In fact, when asked whether the sense of purpose provided by religious beliefs can be emulated by strong human will and direction, a young man replied ‘Yes, I think so’. But that still doesn’t explain what that ‘sense of purpose’ specifically means.

In fact, it would be fair to say that the vagueness of religion in providing concrete, relatable answers to questions regarding ‘God’s presence’, ‘His plan’, ‘sense of purpose’ etc is one of the main elements barring would-be converts from, well, being converted. I have met a lot of believers who use religious rhetoric to answer these questions, but for me, their answers convey a sense of uncertainty more than anything else. Moreover, the mysticism latent in many faiths also adds a layer of un-believability to the religion itself. While I may willingly accept the miraculous deeds of Christ as true, I find it very hard to accept the existence of ‘heavenly tongues’ and ‘demon possession’ without cynicism. ‘I guess you have to experience it to believe it’. Words from a religious friend, who has felt ‘God’s presence’ on past occasions. At 2G, replies to a question regarding personal supernatural experiences range from ‘speaking in tongues for 4 hours’ to ‘never experiencing such things before’ (from lifelong Christians).

Despite my cynicism though, I don’t find it outrageously difficult to accept the existence of an all powerful being who wishes us to lead a moral life. What I do find difficult to accept is the consequences of believing in God, namely the extreme change in lifestyle. Indeed, many non-believers confuse the reasons for their secular beliefs as they do not wholeheartedly oppose the religious doctrine, but merely disagree with the practicalities of leading a religious lifestyle. ‘We know that their isn’t conclusive scientific proof of God’, one member of 2G admits. And here lies the difference between agnostics and believers; both may acknowledge that God’s existence is not absolutely proven, yet the former is unwilling to embrace Him, while the latter does so without question. For non-believers, it appears to be a lifestyle of delayed gratification to the extreme. You can only enjoy the fruits of your pious life after you die. Damn. So what makes the incredibly lively and trendy young people at 2G restrict themselves so? We’re in the age of social network after all, who doesn’t know a bad boy living like a king. ‘You don’t do it because Jesus loves you. And that you want to be worthy of His love’. An exchange of devotion. It’s a relationship indeed.

When I walked out of 2G, it was chilly. I looked around trying to find a lift. No need. Someone found one for me already. They’re good people, I thought. Even if a big chunk of the world think they’re living a lie, they stand strong. Every weekend, tucked away in the corner of quiet suburbia, groups of youths like these come together to give testimony to their faith. In all honestly I find their devotion strange, but like a faithful friend, I promise myself I will go back again.


Monday, January 12, 2009

DeeTu has DIY's

Wanna know how to build your own superhero crew?

...sure you do. Avante!


In a super hero team, this is a given. The Leader will most likely be a scruffy clean boy who doesn’t really know what he’s doing, which is fine because he’s a good guy. Leader will be insecure of his position and indeed a fail. “But why me?” He will say. “Because your heart is pure!” says Grand Master. Incidentally Grand Master, who will either be bald or Asian (or both!), will die soon after, except it’s okay because he’ll appear in various back flashes and in the clouds whenever Leader looks to the skies in Africa. Anywho, Leader will conquer inner demons and appear just in the nick of time and saves the day. Snaps for Leader! Leader will also coincidentally be ruggedly handsome whose personality grows on Hot Chick. She will find him “cute”.

Examples Red Power Ranger from Power Rangers: Lost Galaxy, Scott Summers

Hot Chick

Most probably/definitely the love interest of Leader. Her superpower will be a sort of defensive one until of course she realises her true potentials, but that’s not going to happen until the end of the season whereby she will also be captured by the resident Evil Guy/ Big Boss. Reasons for capturing Hot Chick are twice-fold, like an onion but less. One: Evil Guy knows about Hot Chick’s true potential and together they can probably rule the world or possess certain power crystals. Two: Hot Chick, being the love interest of Leader, will also be his one/ one of his weakness/es and hence acts as bait for a rather spectacular final showdown. Sometimes Hot Chick will join Evil Guy, but it will turn out to be a trap to make Evil Guy lower his guard. Teamwork rocks.

Examples Psylock against the Shadow King, Invisible Woman, Linka, Jean Grey

Hot chick being the one on the left that is

Ugly One

This is the producer’s way of showing people that the classic battle of good versus bad isn’t fought with pretty people and ugly people. Actually this was one of the reasons Bryan Singer introduced Nightcrawler in X-Men II. True story, I listened to the commentary in the special features. Ugly One will be mostly be a bit of a fat kid who goes out of control when he’s angry and somehow appear bigger and uglier and fatter. But a very loyal friend otherwise. He will also meet his match when fighting against the Bad Guys, except good Ugly One will be a touch more intelligent and agile because the good guy will always win. Unless this is some contempory shit where the good guy loses because hey- that's life.

Examples Thing, Blob, Beast, Henry Jeklyll/ Edward Hyde

Other Guy

The traits of Other Guy vary. Sometimes he’s a funny younger kiddling whom Leader finds too immature and only puts up with because Hot Chick says so. Other times he’s an older more experienced and hence disillusioned man who thinks Leader is too soft. Indeed one thing remains certain: he's not going to like Leader and hence thickening the plot of this very complex story. But like everything else, such disputes will be resolved by the end of the season and the two will learn to trust each other. Because o’hana means family and family means no one gets left behind.

Examples Wolverine, Human Torch

Enigma Chick (optional)

She will be the girl who isn’t always in the spotlight and may sometimes have a crush on Leader. She probably has a dark past or emotional walls that need to be smashed in order to truly become a member of the team. This will happen in due time. Most likely the end of the season tested and proven by aforementioned final showdown. Enigmatic Chick will get her heart broken but it’s okay because she’ll meet an equally enigmatic boy later on (may sometimes be Other Guy) and they can have enigmatic babies together. Enigmatic Boy will also have a Franco- Cajun accent, wield a retractable boa staff, love playing cards, have red on black eyes and come from the Bronx. Oh wait, that's J-Lo. Ps, his name will be Gambit. Jajajajajaja

Examples Rogue from X-Men: Evolutions,

Rogue may be touching another man, but at least she knows to steal boyfy's trench coat


Friday, January 2, 2009

introduction - The Heroes Issue

Lo and behold! DeeTu has made it to the second issue. We really should have had this introduction ready on the first day of Jan. But we were drunk. So, this is a belated announcement that this month’s theme is heroes. Yes, heroes! Heroes! Yeahhhhhhhhhhh! Let’s all repeat: Heroesssssssss!

Anywho, heroes is the theme for this month. And as always, the good people here at DeeTu are inviting You to pitch your ideas, suggestions, works to us at, whether hero-related or not. For the Bobs out there who just want to read without input. That’s okay too, cos this issue is going to be packed with material on how to be a hero, save the day, get the girl, rah rah rah…cos that’s why you read DeeTu isn’t? So you can find out how to be popular and cool? You…

Anywho, I thought I would end the intro with a little rhyme, cos Kanye West is a shit.

Here goes: (This should be ideally wailed along to the Korean beatbox remix of Canon in D major)

The theme for this month is heroes,
You know, those guys with flouro-
resecent lycra tights
who like to show off their might
like overrated celebrities flouting the influence of their autographs
such as the Dalai Lama, but let’s
not forget Kanye West!

Cos heroes are nothing but signs
Of an inefficient society dominated by one kind
Of people (according to Huxley). And they’re called heartless CEO’s
Who have paperweights made of gold
And other rare metals, like bronze
Which is goldier than silver, but I digress,
Cos heroes are the best!

Whew, got there in the end.


Thursday, January 1, 2009

Summer Reading - a short on how it used to be

Yes, it’s no longer December, but this piece only one day late. So you can suck on it. Anywho, this little treat is from a great friend of mine with a funny name. He’s a master of understatement and nostalgia. And very religious too, which I agree is a good way to make a buck nowadays. Jokes! Anywho, since we’re in ’ 09, why don’t we farewell ’08 with a sweet little tale about ‘back in the day…’



Six is a strange number. Six years ago I was in class 6M, at my sixth school, receiving my daily doses of stupid. Mrs Manners – what a name for a primary school teacher- she was my form teacher, maybe she still teaches here.


Being back at Beverly Hills Primary is making me think, not just the typical nostalgic “Who am I?” But “why am I” and “how am I”. The sound of children reciting after their teacher, probably thinking that the world is as simple as math, is funny, seeing they’re wrong on both levels.


There was a girl named Jennifer. She was Asian, smart and vegetarian. My best friend liked her since grade 4. Nathan, his name was. When I arrived at grade 6, I liked her too. There was something about Jennifer; maybe it was her being Catholic. Not that I knew that then. Nathan and I got into a fight once. He was telling me how fat boys never get the girl. So I punched him. He punched me back. It was quick, it hurt and as brutal as 11 year old boys can be, we would have been hurt if Mrs Manners hadn’t stopped us. We didn’t talk for a week. We did afterwards.


Another time it was a day as hot as hell. The class was in gym and our teacher, Ms Nicholopolous attempted to teach us poor things how to do cartwheels. Most of the girls did them easily, save for the fat ones. Jennifer took to them like fish to swimming. Nathan had trouble at first, but managed to become adept enough to mock me. I tried. Ms Nicholopolous must’ve seen me struggle and pitied me, then she made continual suggestions for me to improve, “look down” she said, “kick harder” when I still couldn’t do it. I tried, I really tried. On my final attempt I was too close to the wall and kicked it down. The hole remained for the rest of the year, the school never bothered to fix it, the hole might still be there now if I checked, probably plastered with a piece of balsa wood in case the parents complained.


There were 3 of us. We walked around the school every recess and lunchtime looking mean. Nathan, Jarid and I were the biggest boys in grade 6. Nathan was typical Vietnamese and well built and I was fat, Jarid was the son of an Albanian immigrant, but even for his country he must’ve been big, almost as tall as our form teacher and he was only 11. On a hot summers day we used to buy 40 cent icy poles from the canteen and suck on them, laughing as Jarid told us dirty jokes. He seemed to delight in our ignorance, shocking us with his knowledge of the human anatomy, he was the one that taught me that I didn’t come from my mother’s stomach.


On the eve of the school play, as Nathan and I were arguing whether it was worse to be fat or stupid, Mrs Manners suddenly found us and told us to go to the principal’s office. When we arrived, I remember the mood being different from all the times we had detention for various misdemeanours. I looked across Mr. Morrison’s desk and he was speaking to Mrs Manners about calling the police. The thought of being arrested shocked me, but as I looked to Jarid, I realised the fault wasn’t mine or anyone else in the room for that matter. Jarid’s face was bruised and deformed, coloured in white, black and blue. He took a look at us and waved as we sat beside him. “What happened? I whispered to him, “my dad came home drunk yesterday and beat me, I beat him too!” In awe Nathan and I asked him questions about the fight until a man came to pick him up. He came to school for a week afterwards, but I’ve yet to see him since. Mrs Manners said that he needed to move away. I believed her.


I missed this place. It has things the world only makes parody out of. Acceptance for one, hope another. Everyone went at their own pace, there was no pressure to perform and every achievement was worn proudly like a veteran’s medal. I remember getting my first A+ and I got to stand up in assembly in front of all the people that didn’t, I made sure I returned every week after that. But that was years ago.

Steaven Cheung