DeeTu Magazine

shorts - i'm a hamster, living my life

2009-02-08T22:17:00.002+11:00

Its Tuesday, and he’s late coming home again. I can’t see much past the bars of my cage, but I can tell he’s not there. When he’s here, I can feel my whiskers shiver, I get cold, and then I’d start running. It’s bad when he’s home, I have to watch out for his mood swings, but it’s even worse when he’s not. By the time he gets home, I would be too starved to run, too starved to draw attention to my hunger.

When he’s home, at least he would turn the light on. He takes it for granted, but to me, light is a luxury. He decides when I eat, what I eat and whether I eat. But at least the light would be on. I glance around, the shadows look all too potent, pregnant with threat. Roaches. I hear their insistent whines, debating tonight’s menu. Damn it! They wouldn’t dare do that when he’s here. For a start, the light would be on. The roaches always bring out the worse within me. I’m independent and strong, I would have nothing to do with their sycophancy. Roaches always scuttle away when he’s here, but I won’t run away.

But it wasn’t a roach.

By the time I realise, the sound of scampering feet has already reached the door. My muscles tense up, ready to run. The sliver of light from the doorway is momentarily blocked by a dark form. It’s inside! My whiskers twitch, then shiver. My body starts to shake. A surge of adrenaline clicks my legs into overdrive. I’m running, running out of sheer panic. The rhythmic click of my cage spinning quickly increases in tempo. At first I looked around as I ran, the darkness around me began to blur as the bars of the cage cut spectrums of white and silver onto the surrounding blackness. I saw the silhouette of a head to my left. I kept on running. Neck fully extended, I felt my strides stretch to maximum. Streams of sweat began to pool around my eyes, blurring my vision. Before I knew it, I was shouting, the loud squeals mixed unpleasingly with whirring sound of the cage. Its close. I glimpsed the pearly glint of teeth. I closed my eyes and ran. Sweat and piss made a pungent mixture on my skin. I heard a gnashing of teeth. Its over! I strained my neck, hoping to outlive the inevitable.

‘Please, stop.’

I will always remember that voice.

I slowed down to a jog and opened an eye. In the darkness, I saw another hamster.

From a non-descript room on the seventh floor, the whirring sound of something spinning finally stopped. Two hamsters looked at each other, one in a cage and the other on a table.

One of them said, ‘I’m just a hamster, living a life.’

JTL

spank that monkey

2009-02-06T22:29:00.006+11:00

You know those energy drink commercials where a menacing voice is all ‘which flavour is youuu?’. Well, ask yourself that question during your daily routine and you will undoubtedly bring a refreshing diversity to your actions. You may find that lattes are not your ‘flavour’ after all, but a tall shot of straight jager downed with 6 cans of Redbull is really the wake up call you’re after. At work, you might find supervising self-scan checkouts is insufferably tedious because customers are generally fuckwits, and find the flavours of working in a gay bar more appealing.

But then you go home, and here is where variety in decision making generally peters out. Yes, you’re right. I’m talking about wanking. It’s past 12 and you’re holding your wang. You give the forearms a good work out and then invariably dirty the sheets. C’mon you dirty little tosser. Add some variety into that tug-n-jerk. Try injaculation.

[www.nerve.com/Regulars/Quickies/ididitforscience/injaculation]

Basically, injaculation is where you experience orgasm but don’t ejaculate semen. In practice, you just jerk off as per normal and when you’re nearly orgasming, press firmly into the perineum, or ‘gooch’ for the illiterate kids, and stop ejaculation from occurring. Where does it go? If you do it incorrectly, it ends up in your bladder, and you piss a foamy mixture the next day. If you do it correctly, the semen goes ‘somewhere else’, according to self-styled Taoist sex practitioners on the taoistsex.tribe.net forum.

Which brings me conveniently to the origins of injaculation. Taoist mantra states that ejaculation deprives wankers (that’s right!) of essential ‘energy’. Thus, injaculation was developed to retain the energy and distribute it to other parts of the body. Apparently, correct injaculation techniques allow the feeling of orgasm to spread along the spine column and potentially make it last several minutes. As such, Taoism describe this ensuing feeling of overwhelming orgasm as Nirvana, in reference to when the mind and body is eliminated of all distracting thoughts.

However, modern science has deemed injaculation to be potentially dangerous. Not only can it result in café style foam in your piss. But forcing the semen to reverse its directional flow in the urethra can also lead to damage, as these delicate (I’m sure you’ll agree) vessels are designed to be one way only.

Being a deeply spiritual person however, I nevertheless chose to ignore the scientific risks and partake in some jizzless wanking. It took a couple of gos before I could handle the new technique. The results were disappointing. Not only did I fail to experience a mind blowing orgasm, but instead I felt a persistent and disturbing buzz in my anus (Holy Fuck! I couldn’t even sit still). Sure enough, I was peeing foam minutes later. I decided to stop there as the rewards for busting my penal valves seemed unworthwhile.

Other Taoist sex practitioners have also attested that tightly squeezing your perineal muscles can also stop ejaculation. But further reading shows that this technique takes so long to perfect that you might as well believe in Taoism. Personally, I found injaculation not worth the trouble, as the embarrassment of informing your spouse ‘my penis broke’ outweighs the supposed orgasmic benefits of ‘preserving your energy’. But hey, that’s just my flavour.

JTL

Introduction - The Pets Issue

2009-02-03T00:33:00.002+11:00

I walked into Pet’s Paradise the other day, and shit were those furry things pampered. I suggest you go in one day and see how pampered they are. YOU CAN’T HANDLE THAT PAMPERING. Obviously, the incarcerated in a glass box part is a bit of a bummer for them, but hey, it’s not that bad. Honestly, those lower animals have it sweet! Lounging around all day, enjoying delivered-to-your-pen food services. Even weed can’t achieve that state of complete relaxation. They put obese dole bludgers to shame they do.

And so, we're going to pretend that pets don't receive enough attention dedicate this issue to our lesser, yet loveable, creatures. Or maybe its just wishful thinking on my part to join them.

Enjoy!

fat kid loves dreams

2009-01-19T21:57:00.005+11:00

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: yourrestaurants.com.au/, theage.com.au/, own

wolfs.

[as seen in http://www.suddensleep.blogspot.com/]

parsley

2009-01-19T21:27:00.006+11:00

*** 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

The Discovery Channel - Drunk & Disorderly

2009-01-16T01:09:00.016+11:00

Self-explanatory.

'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?

interviews - Empowered Women

2009-01-13T00:54:00.006+11:00

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.

JTL

open your eyes sinner

2009-01-13T00:42:00.008+11:00

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.

JTL

DeeTu has DIY's

2009-01-12T03:35:00.017+11:00

Wanna know how to build your own superhero crew?

...sure you do. Avante!

Leader

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

Wolfs

introduction - The Heroes Issue

2009-01-02T01:49:00.004+11:00

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 deetu@live.com, 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.

Enjoy!

Summer Reading - a short on how it used to be

2009-01-01T22:36:00.007+11:00

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…’

Enjoy.

One,

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.

two,

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.

three,

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.

four,

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.

five,

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.

six,

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.

seven.

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

forever young

2008-12-29T22:58:00.016+11:00

… I want to be forever young.

I once read a review of Youth Group’s debut album, ‘Forever Young is a musical encapsulation of Generation Y. Airy, optimistic, unsubstantial. The words don’t even make sense when you listen closely.’ The comments of a baby from the baby boom.

A lot of them love to generalise against us. We’re promiscuous, we love drugs, we’re rebel this we’re rebel that, rah rah rah. A lot of them seem to forget that they were labelled the Beat Generation, whose collective tantrums were well documented by the likes of Kerouac and Ginsberg. No, instead we are the Irresponsible Ones. It is the Age of Irony after all.

It seems that the children of history are always ostracised. The ideals and the culture of the current youth are invariably rebuked as ‘dangerous’ rather than progressive. The older generations abhor the lack of respect towards Tradition, yet conveniently forget their own apostasies in youth. History is full of these examples. The middle aged population of post-war Germany scoffed at the Dadaist movement of the young, yet they themselves shocked the world with cabaret. Likewise, elderly black Americans are alarmed by the indecencies of hip -hop, yet it was they who popularised the risqué ‘jiggaloo’ music of rhythm –n -blues. Is this hypocrisy of the old disapproving of the new ever -present?

Philosopher Maine de Biran: ‘A man grows old; he feels in himself that radical sense of weakness, of listlessness, of discomfort, which accompanies the advance of age; and, feeling thus, imagines himself merely sick… as the passions grow calm, as the fancy and sensibilities are less excited and less excitable… all that gave to the world of sensations its life and charms has begun to leak away from us, now that phenomenal existence is no more bolstered up by impressions from within or from without, we feel the
need to lean on something that abides, something that will never play us false–a reality, an absolute and everlasting truth. Yes, we inevitably turn to God’

Biran points out that the physical debilities of old age prompt us to lose faith in the power of youth and turn to ‘something that will never play us false’. While Biran is alluding to the need for the absolution of God, it doesn’t take a great leap of reason to conclude that the enduring nature of Tradition and Custom can easily fulfil that role also. As such, old age seems to be the cause of the shift in people’s ideals, prompting them to scorn at the young.

It is old age that rearranges our priorities from fun to comfort. From joy to satisfaction. It dulls not only our senses, but values of what is important in our lives. As we age, the ideals of youth soon gives way to conservative values of ‘just getting by’. The experiences of age discolour memories of the rebellious actions we once undertook as youths, until they become faded photographs of a forgotten past.

It happens to everyone. In fact, it is probably happening to you right now. You begin to make more decisions of ‘judgment’ rather than ‘heart’. Because that’s a part of growing old. You become a yes-man to Mr No, the voice of inhibition stopping you from following that wild hunch, warning you against love during VCE, who says ‘No, that’s not swell’ to the new wave of youth culture. It is probably happening right now.

When you grow old, when your senses are less excited and excitable, don’t dismiss the culture and ideals of youth with thoughts of Custom and Tradition. Dig up that faded photograph of you as the Young Rebel. Remember that you were once young too.

JTL

The Discovery Channel - worst job in the world

2008-12-16T12:47:00.006+11:00

Hi, my name is Jerry and I have the worst job in the world. I am a crowd controller at soccer games, and my job is to look out for muzzas and bogan hoons with my back turned towards the game. A skill I have proudly developed over the years is dislocate my eyes to watch the game on the big screen, while my head is turned in the opposite direction.

To pass the time, I think about the sex I never had.

Jerry

deetu has guides

2008-12-15T22:23:00.010+11:00

A-Z GUIDE TO MOVING OUT:

We all thought moving out would be easy. But as Home Alone I-IV has shown, transporting furniture and entering a foreign building has never been so hard. As such, the good people at DeeTu (no, just me) have provided this guide to moving out, to give young’uns some insight into future life at Your Place.

Agents. We all know they’re getting paid to collect your money, but getting on good terms with your agent is almost as good as not fucking up the house in the first place. These guys will get on your case cos you’re young and have better futures than them, so don’t believe everything they say. Be adamant that the gigantic gash in the wall was already there when you moved in. In the event that you do fuck up, get your friends together to fix it (it’s a reason to party!), as getting the agent will only end up in the alarmed owner jacking up the price.

See also: Asian roommates, Aryan roommates, American roommates

Being a tightarse. After the initial period of smug generosity when you offer your mates to get shitfaced at ‘your place’, you inevitably become so tight you might as well be called Mr Wong. You will no longer feel the need to assert your superiority by loudly mentioning ‘your place’ in conversations, for fear those alcoholic fuckers will piss on your neighbour’s geraniums and drive over your mail box. Again.

See also: Banging roommates, Banshees, Breaking-and-Entering

Cooking. Shit mang, this is a tough one. Best to have at least one roommate from an abusive family, they would have learned this skill since like 3 (they can probably to do this while getting flogged with a belt too!) But yeah, you can’t really seen this working with 4 white rugby players, and Asian kids are fucking irresponsible in this area too.

See also: Candy from strangers, Camping, Choosing the right curtains

Drinking. Overheard at MC. ‘Hey bro (they were muzzas), I thought you had red label at your place.’ ‘Nah bro, no more drinking, bro, like I’m getting problems bro.’ ‘Serious? ’S going on?’ ‘Since I moved out bro, I’ve been shitting banana shakes. Like, Boost juice has nothing on my diarrhoea bro.’ ‘Shiiiit brooooo…’

See also: Dying, Damaged property

Electricity bills. This should have been covered in Bills, but I’ve gone past B. Anyway, always try to pay your bills on time. There’s nothing more depressing that making awkward chitchat with your new roommates when there isn’t TV to relieve your anti-social tendencies from emerging. Electricity is the defining characteristic of civilisation, so unless turning feral and shitting in your neighbours’ geraniums is your thing, you should politely fork out for the lights.

See also: Emotional breakdowns, Eels (in your fucking toilet!)

Feeling down. This never happens. Everyone knows moving out is the best decision in your life.

See also: Frat boys, Feeling out the neighbours

Gays. Moving out is like the first step into the Real World, and you’re going to meet a lot of socially marginalised groups. Like gays! These guys are generally pretty cool. But it is also true that they generally want to fuck you. All in all, these guys are a mine of weird information about sex. Honestly, everything you’ve ever thought was taboo are like tea parties to these people. Don’t be afraid to go up to gays and interrogate them about their sex lives with a pen and pad.

See also: Gaming, Going out without the keys, Guides to Everything

Gays!

Homophobes. Yes, these people actually do exist. It’s the 21st century, and we’re less tolerant than the ancient Greeks. These people are generally classified into 2 groups. There’s the ignorant homophobes who believe gays are mythical creatures who don’t ‘really’ exist. They’re usually the conservative Asian dads who only care about sub-atomical electron movements in the third solar cell. Pretty harmless. But then you get the hardcore homo-haters like cowboys and Catholics. If you’re gay and you’re rooming with these guys, shit hon, just run.

See also: Hamstring cramps, Hormone rush, Hudson’s coffee

I. Yes, the number one. Always look after yourself when you move out, cos chances are everyone else is only looking after themselves also. MAINTAIN HYGEINE. You’re living in a sheltered and enclosed area, not the street, therefore you must make that distinction evident. Also, cleaning your room and your furniture is really important. I once went to this guy’s place, and he’s mattress was damp cos he didn’t air it for 2 years. Dudeeee……

See also: Igloos (moving into), Incestuous relationship (ending your)

Jangly keys. Fuck! This is so annoying on a hot Saturday night when you’re staying in and trying to sleep, and the Roommate comes home. Yes, I know you went out while I was JOing into a sock…little shit. The point is everyone should get a separate keyring for each key so they don’t bang together and disturb other people’s sleep, which is all this is about.

See also: Jealous roommates,

Keeping the peace. Being friendly to your new roommates/neighbours is important, not only to stop yourself from being labelled a dickhead, but also because you will most likely need help from them in the future. Compromising and admitting your mistakes is the key here. If it was you who ruined their geraniums, you should admit to it.

See also: Killing Me Softly by The Fugees

Living low. Unless your dad is a corrupt Chinese government official and all your income is tax free, you will, more likely than not, fall on some hard times once you move out. The trick is to leech off your uni as much as possible. They have heaps of funds for third world kids like you. It really helps if you’re ethnic too. Remember, food is more important than alcohol, and rent money is more important than shoes.

See also: Leery strangers, Landline vs Mobiles, Loneliness

Holy Shit! Dude's got three penises on his chin!

Money. Need plenty.

See also: Manhandling the landlord, Mixing drinks,

No-can-dos. These people are the cockroaches of the human race. They always say no to whatever idea you have and scuttle away before you can react. Fuck man, just say yes. Why say no when your best reason is ‘I cbf’. Fuckafuck. Don’t ever move in with these people.

See also: No offence to pretty much everyone I know, including me

Opium. In year 11, this dude who later became my reference for work offered me some laughing gas. After making sure it wasn’t going to turn me into a drug addict, I gladly accepted and took enough nos to make me spontaneously combustible. Once I stopped laughing and regained my composure, I solemnly lectured him against drug abuse. A year later, he offered me some opium and I declined.

See also: Oompah Loompahs at Sugar Tube alley, Eazy-E sucks cock

Parents. You can’t avoid them forever. It’s inevitable that you go back home to visit and do all the things that compelled you to move out in the first place. Just treat these visits as a positive reminder of what a good decision moving out was. Trust me, an hour into the visiting protocols and a couple of ‘dad-farts’ later, you’ll be missing your pissy roommates so much that you want to merge your inner beings with them. Is that weird?

See also: Puff Daddy, Pies for the munchies

Quest for ‘your place’. 15% of the fun of moving out comes from this part. That sliver of hope that you will find a place close to the city, close to your school, close to your work, close to your favourite club, where your roommates show you romantic interest, yet who you are free to snub without consequence, all for less than $100 per week, right? You little fucker.

See also: Quiche, Quarter pounder tits

Rancid milk. Aha, I have a good story about this one. But you don’t like stories do you… you fucking communist? Anyway, my cousin moved out and she said this guy she knows turned up to work sucking on a 2 litre bottle of milk cos he was too spoilt, to know how to make breakfast. The milk went, obviously, rancid. The moral of this little episode is that if you’re not good enough to take care of yourself, you’ll get slaughtered son. Jokes! No, seriously, learn some skills.

See also: Roommates vs Loner, Relying on others

Squatting. This is a pretty good option for those with a budget and who want to become addicted to drugs. Once you’re In with the squatting community, you’ll meet druggies, pov art students, hobos with ‘in my day’ stories. In short, fully sick cunts! So get out there guy, invade the nearest abandoned shack and stamp your middle-class authority on those homeless dole bludgers.

See also: Sterilising your cutlery, Sham salesman, Shaman medicine

Holy Shit! ...naw naw, they're not refugees, because we know refugees don't squat, they just get deported. Therefore, Squatters!

Theft. Standard procedure for moving out. To get started, you’ll need to steal the toaster from the ’rents, some cushions from your best mate, and maybe a couple of chairs from Myer. And a couch too if your bag is big enough.

See also: Trying too hard, Train stations and other amenities

Ultimatums. This seems to be pretty common nowadays as there are some roommates who are genuinely born with a penis on their head. This is where ultimatums come in handy. Get the other roomers on your side and do a little Treaty of Versailles on your rebel roomer. Tell him (as is generally the case) to wank in his room or …else.

See also: Using household electrical appliances, Unpacking,

Vandalism. If some local wiseguys bomb your new place with obscure ‘tags’, tell them to fuck off. You really start sympathising with those local immigrant businesses who call vandalism a ‘thorn in the community’ and who vote liberal. I swear hip hop and graffiti is undermining the english language with all this ‘nu skool’ spelling. In 2030, we’ll be known as the ‘fuktup timez’, where thug high school teachers listen to 50 cent.

See also: VCE (har har…), Vermin

Wetting the bed the first night you move out. BAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA. …hehehhehe…..he..hehe…..heeeeeeeeeeeeee. you poor wittle baby you woogie boogie boog. BAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH.

See also: Wet patches near the loo, Wings, Where’s the Wanker?

This is the part where you yawn and say 'shit, what a weird dream...'

X is the most bullshit letter of the alphabet. It’s hard enough thinking of words starting with X (there’s like six), let alone those related to moving out.

See also: Xanthorrhoea, Xanax, X-raying balls repeatedly

Yo. (According to dirt.blogspot.com). Yo: These are the house rules, Respect the Ripper Demon, Contribute or Die, You hos, Reppin for the Ghetto 213. Maybe Mr Ripper should have mentioned he’s 13 and has one hair on his balls.

See also: Yoghurt, Yoga farts

Zoos. Commonly referring to recreational sites filled with dislocated beasts and people with tasers, parallels can also be found between conventional zoos and Your Place. Indeed, the number of fucks screaming for attention and consumables is a common feature in both. And both categories feature notorious cases of dickheads dying. But most of all, both are good places to piss off the local inhabitants.

See also: Zionists, Zinc poisoning, Zap!

Sylli

c'est bizzare!

2008-12-10T15:07:00.001+11:00

It’s a running joke at my school that everyone’s either going to become a doctor or a lawyer. Indeed upon questioning about her preference of plans for the coming year, a friend replied, “A med-law course at the Harvard University of Oxford-Cambridge, of course”. Classic, but somewhat painfully true. After changing my mind a million times this year (advertising, fashion photography, marketing, journalism, PR, public servant) I’ve returned to my original decision of law. However my school really isn’t a cross section of the population, after all boys do exist in the real world and hence there becomes a need to look at other professions available.

Chicken sexer
Bestiality remains a rather unaccepted and illegal practice, and thats ok because this job isn't like that. Chicken sexers sort through baby chicks to determine if they are male or female and then segregate them. This is to enable those chickens to receive optimal nourishment for their likely commercial role later on. Did your parents make you go to a single sex school? The same principle applies here.

Golf Ball Diver
My school's right next to a golf course and once in while in our wanderings to and fro we will come across a golf ball. Unsure of how to utilise such superfluous equipment we kind of just leave them there. What we should have done is collected the heap, cleaned them and resold them to the golfers who lost them. Such is the job of golf ball divers who wake up at the crack on dawn in search of such dimpled spherical beatuies.

Fortune Cookie writer
It's a big claim but undoubtably one of the greaest mysteries of the Orient remains how the omniscent fortune cookie slips finds themselves to be written in English. Were the powers of its anicent art so advance that it forsaw the reader's inability to comprehend it's language? Or could this be the work of a dodgy middleman?

Cartoon Colourist
No joke, they do exist. This was the furture I was looking at had I decided to pursue an artistic career, or so said my mother. The worst thing is you don't even get to finish the entire cartoon. What could be more terrible than buying an entire tin of Derwents and not even having the opportunity to use all 96 colours and shades?

Ringtone Recorder
If you ever meet one, these are the ones to blame for those annoying chimes for mobiles. The doof doof ones are the worst. I know waking up before the sun does is a pain, but this isn't going to make your 7am train trips seem like a party. That being said, imagine how much worse it must feel to be recording these everyday. So maybe if you meet one, blame them but then give them a hug.

With ENTER results arriving dangerously soon; these options are becoming increasing less ridiculous. Indeed a pact has been made with Fox that should we fail life, a cupcake/florist/bookshop/café shall be opened featuring such dishes as “the cupcake of VCE angst” and “shunned by the family mystery meat”. Bon appetit.

wolfs

Finding work is a bitch

2008-12-06T01:04:00.001+11:00

Trying to get a job like trying to get laid, you want to swear loudly when bitch-in- skirt says no, but you’re have to do it real quiet like cos you don’t want to blow your chances for next time. Come the fuck on corporate guy, long time no eat! What happened to hiring kids with a bus pass and a cheesy smile. No we didn’t know baker’s delight was Victoria largest provider of breadsticks. Yes, we want money.

‘Recruitment procedures’ are bullshit. Hey guy, it’s unskilled labour and I am suitably unskilled. HIRE ME! It’s 187 all day in the ghetto, and youre scrutinising the smear on my ‘curriculum vitae’? Give me the fuckn nametag already. Best& less, reject shop, it doesn’t matter…..just hand it over moerfucker.

Ethnic HR managers are the worst (thanks equal opportunity), they love to tell you about their struggles up the social ladder from the boat to a quarter acre block. And then they tell you no.

Fulfilled your employment quota? What the fuck? I just got internal bleeding from listening to all your refugee crap.

So. In lieu of this oh-so-serious youth issue, here are some things any prospective young’un should do in the face of rejection:

1. Smile sweetly and ask whether your friend Johnny got the job instead, while vaguely gesticulating to your right/left hand side. When the HR lady (as they generally are) looks around puzzled, cry loudly that she just knocked Johnny over, and kneel in some kind of resuscitation position. As the HR looks on pondering your mental wellbeing, threaten her by saying you will sue (on behalf of Johnny) if you don’t get the job.

2. Yodel like a retarded eastern European shepherd.

3. Lean forward conspiratorially and be like, oh that’s okay ms so-and-so, thank you very much for your time, but (look down and twiddle your toes nervously at this point) my daddy said he won’t love me anymore if I can’t pay for his bourbon. (Now scratch yourself suggestively). Alternatively, you can casually reveal some cuts on your wrist. You might even want to do the real cut n grind in front of the dude, just to be convincing you know? Don’t worry, its fun!

4. Lean forward conspiratorially and say, real quiet like, I’m a scientologist, don’t fuck with the thetans.

5. Carry a voodoo doll in your pocket, the head sticking out. When you get noed, ask the HR manager calmly for anything with the store logo on it, and 3 litres of her blood. If she’s a total comatose retard, and asks why (WHY???), say it’s for Johnny.

6. Pull your shirt/top over your head like a soccer hoon from Oakleigh and run around like you have Downers, yes in that aeroplane position, while screaming, ‘ahahahAAHHAHAHAHAHheheheeee, I GOT THE JOB. I GOOOOOOOOOT THE JOOOOOOOB YEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHHAHAhahahaha’ (in those exact words). Ideally, the bitch will feel too bad to bring you back down again and give you the job.

7. Walk away like the loser you are.

8. Lean forward conspir...fuck that, go straight out the gate and be like, bitch, I’m a head ho from head office and yo vanilla biscuit ass is on the line for being uncompassionate with yo fellow human beings, bitch. I’m kicking yo ass to the kerb, for rejecting my black ass, and for knocking Johnny down. We don’t dig dat no mo’ player.

(I guess you can do other races, but that canto chinaman shit lacks substance, cos we just want justice, coz life is fabulous, and y’all aint wit us, and this is HIP HOP, HIP HOP, HIP HOP, HIP HOP, HIP HOP, HIP HOP, and so on)

9. and so on

10. Finally number ten. Number one-oh is this: just enjoy blue collar living and forget the job. Drink a Melbourne Bitter in the chill and billy up the weed stems you got for 8 bucks a gram. This is life after VCE/HSC/backwaterequivalent, and this is summer. You don’t need money to enjoy it.

Sylli

Summer Reading - a short on rebellion and dissatisfaction

2008-12-06T00:39:00.000+11:00

I do feel dissatisfied with my job, and my life in general to be honest. But I think everyone feels it, you know? I mean everyone I know, especially the younger, more idealistic girls, have told me that they were not expecting life and work here to be this mundane. But, I’m not sure if this makes sense, I think, like, the city has some kind of power over us (laughs), like, it disables our ability to fight back or something. I don’t know. But I do feel this acceptance of mediocrity is taking something away from us.

- Joe

Eve

Her job was to sleep, the doctor had said. Take 2 with water, 15 minutes before you go to bed. It’s been 2 hours, and the rough calico covering of the sofa was a persistent reminder that she was still awake. She closed her eyes more firmly and tried to breathe as little as possible. Deep breathing stimulates consciousness according to the doctor. She saw herself sitting at the coffee table, staring down, expressionless, at this lump of cloth and flesh desperately trying to reject consciousness. Her lips curled. And then she was back. The heavy pounding of her heart put a sudden stop to this escape while the boundaries of consciousness returned. She had been holding her breath.

Resigned to the indistinguishable spots of reds and blues behind her eyelids, she thought of Jake. They haven’t spoken for months. Her friends, with their usual sneer, had told her he started smoking. It’s just cigarettes, she said defensively, then quickly remembered their situation and rearranged her face to be non-chalant. It’s no big deal, and I wouldn’t care anyway. They just sneered.

Turning around to peek at the wall clock, she secretly congratulated herself for passing a whole hour in memories, while also being guiltily reminded that physical movement delayed sleep for up to 30 minutes. Sighing, she closed her eyes on reality, annoyed at its presence. Klaxons in the distance reminded her that the City was awake all night long. Her mind travelled past the skyscrapers back to her town. Looking at her bills, her father had been furious, city people, vengeful spittle flying everywhere, how do they sleep at night. At this, she resisted the urge to cringe. She was half an hour behind already.

4:30. Leaning back and taking a deep breath, she rubbed her eyes open. Ceiling, clock, window, stomache, she threw up her arms in protest and quietly called life a piece of shit. That’s five days in a row. She walked over to the calendar, and marked a diagonal line. Neat clumps of black lines stared back at her like amused veterans sizing up the new recruit. They knew she was going to crack soon. At the sink, she surveyed her apartment for a place to drink her espresso. Fancy packaging has prompted to her buy many things she didn’t need. She finally settled on the bean bag in her ‘cosy’ but cold living room.

As the first magenta rays lit up the blue pouches under her eyes, she thought of the office and decided she was legitimately sick. Again, the doctor’s words came back to her. She sighed inaudibly. She needed a real job.

JTL

Interviews - Noise in Hip Hop

2008-12-06T00:36:00.003+11:00

When Nas released his 2006 album ‘Hip- Hop is Dead’, not even he could fully understand the exact prophetic effect of his album. Fifteen years on, rappers have become the boy bands of the 90’s. Spouting meaningless rhymes for tweens, these so-called ‘hood niggaz’ have shamelessly turned their backs on true hip-hop to ‘roll’ with the likes of Britney Spears. Reminiscing about the days when hip hop came with heart not advertising, DeeTu talked to Arch Rival from Wikid Force, arguably Australia’s oldest and most decorated breakdance crew, about hip hop, bboying, and the soul behind the music.

DeeTu: What are some of the plans for Wikid Force over the summer and later in 09?

Arch Rival: At the moment, we’re doing a theatre show called Melbourne Breaks. We’ve been doing that in Melbourne since 2005, and we’re looking to do a 4 week season for in Tasmania. So, that’s on the books for 2009. But we’re also looking to possibly going to Dubai to perform at their Dubai Festival City event.

Sounds sweet man, so you guys will be representing Australia over there?

We will be representing Australia as bboys, but at the end of the day, it’s a showcase, so we won’t be representing like in a competition or anything. I mean, a couple of us are too old for that. (side note: Arch is 35, but his freestyles stops traffic)

Fair enough, Wikid Force and yourself has obviously been around for a long time, what was the breakdance and hip hop scene like back in the day?

Haha, it was crazy man. Wikid Force started in 88’, it’s the 20^th anniversary for Wikid Force this year actually, but basically we’re talking about breaking in the 80’s. The breaking and hip-hop craze, or period, in Australia, in my opinion, was actually around about 82’ and 83’. I mean, Beat Street came out in 84’, and a lot of clips of Rock Steady Crew were coming over here at that time. That media exposure back then definitely helped the breaking scene. Me and a couple of the original Wikid Force members started out when we were 8 or 9, basically just as breaking and hip hop was being brought to the world. So yeah, the craze was definitely there man. We were learning from clips we saw and from each other. And the passion for the culture and music was really there, you know, which we never grew out of.

As a bboy, you are obviously been very much involved in hip-hop, so what does hip-hop mean to you, why is it so appealing?

Well, for me and Wikid Force, hip hop is more than just the music and dance. It’s really a way of life, I mean, pretty much all of us at Wikid Force teach, at United Styles and community centres, and we do a lot of corporate gigs. So hip hop has been really provided a professional pathway in that sense. But hip hop for me has always been about friendship. When Wikid Force formed, we were all like 14 or 15, and we’ve remained the best of friends. It’s really about that bond, that sharing of knowledge and common interest which really appeals to me for hip hop. I mean, I’ve travelled the world because of hip hop, and there’s been times when we had nowhere to stay, and people we’ve met would just invite us to stay at their place. So yeah, for me, that friendship, sense of community and dancing is definitely a big part of hip-hop’s appeal.

Speaking of the hip hop community, shows like So You Think You Can Dance and commercial rap artists has helped provide a lot of publicity for the hip hop and dance community, but there’s been disagreements of their value. What’s your opinion on this commercialisation of hip hop and breakdancing.

Shows like So You Think You Can Dance has definitely done well to promote dance to the general public. They’ve definitely gotten people interested in hip hop and dance, and inspired a lot of the younger generation to get a bit more involved. But I think, being someone who knows a little bit more about the culture, the show has generalised hip hop. I mean, a lot of the guys who are very involved in hip hop do have their disagreements with how these shows kinda just focus on the showy part of hip hop and breaking, to please the crowd so to speak. And that issue has definitely come under a lot of heavy discussion in the community. Don’t get me wrong, the commercialisation is definitely good to get people interested, but, I think, to really learn more about true hip hop culture and dance, you need to look a lot further.

Something that’s really bugging me is what bboys, poppers and lockers call, ‘having soul’ or ‘having funk’ when you dance. Being an accomplished dancer in all of these styles, can you give us a word on what ‘soul’ or ‘funk’ actually mean?

Man, basically, when you dance, having soul or the funk is releasing that ‘something within you’. It’s about being so inspired by the music that you just let it rip you know. I mean, some people are just born with the ‘funk’, like no matter what they do, it’s gonna look good. But it’s definitely also something that you can capture in your training in becoming the best dancer you can be. Ultimately, hip hop music and dancing gives you freedom man, and that freedom is where ‘soul’ and ‘the funk’ come from.

Just to close off, what’s your advice to some of the younger kids out there who are looking to get involved in hip hop and dance.

Well, firstly you should do some learning to know what it is you’re actually doing. Only then can you fully appreciate hip hop, you know. But yeah man, definitely get to a place where people are involved in hip hop and dance, be it dance classes, community centres, or anywhere else. If you got friends who are into it, get together and train. At the end of the day, you got nothing to lose by getting involved. By going to these places, and seeing and learning, you’re starting your hip hop journey, [at this point, someone turned on the jukebox and Hip Hop by Dead Prez started playing, no joke.], just like I did before, and the people before me. In the end, it’s just fun man, the whole hip hop experience is fun, you should never forget about that.

Check out Arch Rival and other Wikid Force members in class at www.unitdstyles.com

Sylli