Monday, December 21, 2009


This is one of the most unbelievable films I've ever seen - James Cameron's Avatar.

And given I'm still trying to erase from memory the 'New Moon' I downloaded the other day, it's a good thing my brain has been renourished with some filming excellency such as this. Not only was it visually stunning, not to mention hugely costly given that it had been filmed with three-dimensional fitted cameras, and the mindblowing CGI, I won't hear a word on the plot being 'predictable' and 'rubbish'.

It was supposed to be G-rated, which I think lots of people are forgetting. Or perhaps their expectations were too high given James Cameron's back catalogue of works. Personally, I found no problem with the romantic subplots or the happy ending, given that when I watched it in 3D there were an entire row of 7-year-old kids sitting next to me. I don't think an ending of Na'Vi slaughetering and the humans succeeding in destroying Pandora would be a) a terribly good message to send out to the future generations and b) much of a 'family film' viewing content.

I found the plot was hugely relevant in its anti-coloniasm and bringing to light the importance of nature and existing on a planet in an environmentally friendly way. How many films can leave its audience with a converse outcome and make you side with the aliens rather than the humans? Not to mention the idea of the Na'Vi being genetically modified to be able to tap energy from their surroundings through their bodies, rather than relying on machinery like humans do.

Godamm, I was impressed by this movie..... if you haven't seen it in the cinemas, I suggest you do so right away so you too can walk away gaping in awe. So awesome!

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Clearing out 'ma iPod.

Let's just say I'm never going to make the woeful mistake of buying an iPod off ebay ever again. Six months later I'm still trawling through my iTunes deleting sonic shittery like:

Korn, Klubbheads, Garbage, Limp BiSkit (sic), P.O.D. (um, they released an entire album? seriously?), Pigface, The Porkers, Rancid, and, jesus fuck Rogue Traders, plus an abundance of random emo/ska bands. Not to mention the 350mb of porn I found in the video section when the thing first got mailed to me...

Oh Internet, thou hast scorned me.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

american apparel

Soooo. Whilst doing a little online shopping I came across an extroadinary revelation about American Apparel.

There's a reason why this shit is so popular, and it all boils down to their ever so clever marketing scheme. It's basically, like, softcore porn. They have these chicks with tousled hair and Erkle glasses, perched in a pair of undies rearing their backs in the air with a pair of "designer" socks thrown on to render it a "fashion advertisement". I knew there was a reason I try to hide my newly-acquired Vice when I got on the bus - so the old nanna's sitting down wouldn't be shocked into heart palpitatin' by the slutty American Apparel imagery on the back of its cover.

So, like, you'd think putting a chick with her outer labia basically hanging out of a satin bikini on a magazine cover is un peu risque - until you check out the WEBSITE.

Holy shit!!!

Holy shit!!!

Holy shit!!!

I came on here to get some socks, American Apparel, and you've left me feeling dirty. Dirty, and ashamed. With some killer feetwear!

Monday, December 7, 2009


Just to kill some time before I go to a staff meeting at the Ed Castle. Yes, I've reduced myself to the mouldy, pubic hair stuck in the grates of the hospitality plughole and submitted myself to the position of glassy. Ah well, at least there's no grease trap cleaning involved plus the ever wonderful promise of hella ca$h.

But until hella ca$h arrives, my poor jeans, which have two rips that seem to grow bigger with each wear, will have to last out. Which means borderline ass for street-strollers behind me.

Now behold THIS... endless entertainment for any English student / geek: Scribblenauts. God fucking damn I love this game.

So that's about it's time to intervene with the stereo downstairs. Mum is cranking the Christmas Carols already. It's the 8th of December. I've got three more weeks of this 20th-century-modern-"hip"-tale of Rudolph the Rednosed reindeer shit.

Friday, November 27, 2009


Erm, so I've come to the conclusion over years of speculation that the garden variety pub-crawling Australian male is a real bonehead.

This theory stems from five years of moshpit endurance - (by that I mean enduring the varying specimens of Coopers-guzzling, Southern Cross tattooed and sunburnt horrors that feel the need to squeeze my ass cheek while I'm watching a band).

Last night there were two occasions where I had the misfortune of sitting/standing infront of an asshole of a human being.

Asshole 1: Girl at MAPS UniSA media students screening at Mercury Cinema
Some Uni student 3-minute film showcase thingydoo. I end up sitting in front of some ceaselessly irritating bitch who giggles the entire time - even through a 3-minute documentary about Aspergers Syndrome when an autistic dude on the screen talks about not being able to get a job. Giggle giggle giggle. Oh yeah, real funny, his mental impairment can only get him a shitty job as a cleaner. Laugh it up. You asshole.

After I prise myself off the chairs at the Mercury cinema after a long three hours of wine and listening to chuckling behind me, we venture on to our next point of interest for the night. W'ere off to Jive to see Jeff Martin, former frontman of the Tea Party, which, for the record, was amazing. But which also brings me to....

Asshole 2: Man at Jeff Martin at Jive

Jeff Martin pulled out an entire show-and-tell of Arabic and Eastern instruments, including an Ud he won in a game of Poker in Egypt, played Led Zeppelin covers, had an unbuttoned shirt, said he'd met Keith Richards, rocked out hard - oh was it tacky... but the man's guitar skills and vocals were incomparable to anything I've ever seen and I loooveeeddd eeet.

Except for this fucker behind me, who was consistently belching behind my head a putrid combination of beer and yiros breath, yelling: "WE'RE NOT IN EGYPT BUDDY". (turns to friend) "WHO IS THIS GUY?" "HEY MR MARTIN WHY DONT YOU PLAY SOME REAL MUSIC".

Raaaaaggggeeee. Why the hell did you pay $50 to come to this gig? Why are you here ruining it for the rest of us in a small venue? Did you mistake Jive for the Rosemont? Thankfully he scuttled off three songs into it, probably down to Pizza Rev to get a slice of Margherita and a slice of 13-year-old Rohypnol'd ass.

End rant.

Monday, November 23, 2009


Today Peter and I went into Shin Tokyo. This was basically like taking a crack addict into a cave full of pile upon pile of pure South American cocaine. After fifteen minutes of glancing longingly at all the plushies and Death Note DVDs I finally prised myself away from the cabinets... with THIS amazing new addition.

Can I get a mmmhmm.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

still run

This is so awesome.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Uni toilings

Snippets from my uni project (a three-minute film for Media) that is sapping away my social life. Even though the degree attracts some tutors that just absolutely crap on for an hour most of our assessment comes from making a movie, yow. Beats an essay any day. Origami and fishing wire and oh my!


photos taken from Anna Horne's studio space at TwinBEE. click here!

Thursday, October 8, 2009


Just like last year, my review and then... this version.

It’s festival season again, and what better way to kick it off with an early Spring frolic in the parklands for the Fuzzy dance-monster Parklife. With some futile attempt to go with our friends as an Earth, Wind, Fire and Water theme, I end wearing some some black, feathered, tulled and pocked tutu to the festival. Squeeeee!

Eleanor is dressed as a whore. As usual.

With a weather forecast of 18 degrees and the sun beating down on Monday afternoon, from midday a crowd of 13,000 were lining up at the gates. Security was tighter this year, with punters greeted not only with the boom of the music stages beyond but a spot-check by police officers and sniffer dogs. Before anyone had even entered the festival drug dealers could be seen fleeing across the lawns from a team of cops. Before I'd even reached the gates my phone was bombared with texts warning me not to get busted. All under control friends, all under control - this is what BRAS are for.

In the gates now, so let’s begin with boo to you, La Roux. Punters soon discovered, to their disappointment, that the British dance duo would not be playing due to Elly Jackson suffering a case of tonsilitus. That's what you get for putting an inflammation-prone ranga as the headliner.

Second boo of the day – the bar. I don’t think I need to delve into much explanation as to why 5.0% alcohol Smirnoff Blacks being sold at $11.50 a piece is a joke. No drink tokens though, thank fucking god.

Those two cons aside, Parklife was looking better than ever this year. There was a ripple of excitement in the air, perhaps this was induced by paranoia of the sniffer dogs wandering around, or perhaps it was the first hint of that warm October sun. Regardless, we were pumped to get out dancing shoes on.

The festival had expanded this year, with the addition of a giant white tent for the main Water Stage standing out as an impressive new feature. But the crowds were still the same, with fleets of cut-off denim shorts and citrus-coloured legs striding past every five minutes. I struggled to differentiate 90% of the crowd from each other as they were all wearing the same shit, par Johnny the hula-hooping dude who was adorned in a lovely white leotard and tied-up flanny.

We head to the bar...

Three hours later... we're ready to have a choice time.

We arrive to find independent Australian vocalist Bertie Blackman setting up for her Sneaker set. With the cloud cover disappearing and the sun coming out, the crowd was in the perfect mood for the Sydney-based songstress’ indie pop. Having spent hours loitering in the bar, it was no surprise that the moshpit danced up a storm to the tribal drum beats of highly rotated JJJ song Hearts. Ending her set with a cover of Phil Collin’s In The Air Tonight, a quick bustle to the Water Stage was made to catch the start of London popette Little Boots.

Upon arriving we found the music of Little Boots a little single-layered, so we toss up and went to check out French act Busy P instead. Playing a great selection of electro, after a quick frolic we check our watches – 4:40pm. It’s time for Lady Sovereign.

... but before that another detour to the bar. Eleanor's friends join in and initiate a gang rape on the lawns. We spectate and drink.

Given her recent attention in Australian press (, the next act of the day was highly anticipated – the London badass rapper Lady Sovereign. Brisbane bouncers may not have taken too fondly to her guttermouth and hip-hop attitude, but seemingly there’s nothing Adelaide loves more than a pink-haired chav with a microphone.

Busting our rhymes in a combination of cockney dialect and pack-a-day smokers husk in I Got You Dancing and Love Me and Hate Me, she was feisty as hell, each interval between songs ridden with swear words : “You’ve got so many dangerous animals ‘ere!” she announced. “Foocking spiders and that, screw that shit!” Closing her set for the afternoon, her version of The Cure’s Close To Me, So Human, erupted a mass singalong from girls in the crowd of; “I’m still human yeah yeah yeah, it’s okay yeah yeah yeah.”

As dusk started to creep in, hundreds of punters gathered at the Air stage for Ontario duo Crystal Castles. Within moments of the pair taking to the stage, the sound of that erratic, 8-bit lo-fi synth with a drone of distortion filled the air. To the masses of pilled up ravers below, frontwoman Alice Glass conjured a frightening image: a gaunt-looking girl in an oversized shirt, black kohl smeared around her eyes, standing rigid on stage twitching her head in catatonic intervals. To the rest of us, her kookiness translated into a mesmerizing stage presence. JJJ circulated track Crimewave was met with a cheer of familiarity, whereas Glass’ screamo vocals in Alice Practice induced many a headbash across the field.

Their sound was impeccably crisp, an even balance achieved by Ethan Kath between fuzzy and clean melodies, but I must say I’m not sure an open stage during daylight particularly suited them. Crystal Castles is a band with a reputation for stage chaos – the kind of group you envision seeing somewhere in a basement full of lasers with Alice Glass rocking out so hard her eyeballs roll into the back of her head. I was disappointed along with others that they’d been allocated an outdoor stage with no visual aids, as though the show was jawdropping I felt they’d been ripped off.

It's then time for Metric. On our way over, Sally gets into conversation with some cops about a parking fine she was given a month ago. I am extremely drunk by this point and start freaking out. "SALLY... C-COME BACK.."

The temperature quickly cooled as the sun went down, but not cool enough for Canadian skin, apparently. While everybody else had donned a jumper or two and surged into the mosh for bodyheat, frontwoman Emily Haines was clearly unphased by the chilly air as she skipped around the stage in a black, glittery minidress for Metric’s set . I overhear someone behind me say "I'm not a lesbian but I would fuck that." The feeling is mutual, friend. Opening with Monster Hospital from their previous LP Live It Out, she continued to work her way through most of 2009 success Fantasies.

Rotating from behind her keyboard to crouching at the front saluting fans at the barrier, Metric were by far a standout. After a day of having electronic music pounding into our ears from iBooks, Metric were wonderfully authentic with their four-piece band. Tucked away in the corner of Botanic park at the Fire Stage, the band was in clear view from all angles and had drawn a great crowd of people who didn’t have their pupils dilating out of their skulls. The meaty guitar riffs and upbeat drums in Sick Muse elicited a powerful crowd response, but what everybody was really hanging out for was Help I’m Alive, which rest assured they kept till last. Upon hearing those opening echoey clangs, limbs and heads began to fly in all directions. As the song finished, however, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sad as the majority of the crowd lumbered off in the direction of Empire of the Sun, missing the final song Stadium Love.

Ah yes, night hadset in and everybody was now crammed underneath the big top waiting in anticipation for Empire of the Sun, arguably one of 2008’s most successful dance acts. Unsurprisingly Nick Littlemore was absent, keeping in theme with the rest of the Parklife festivals one would assume. Needless to say his presence was not required, as Luke Steele was, and is, an enigma on the stage. Here you had a man virtually performing as a one-man show, wearing a feather headdress with the circumference of a small child, singing and playing lead guitar all at once. Though the set was largely electro, Steele still managed to throw a little of his Sleepy Jackson roots in there with the odd guitar solo on his white Fender Stratocaster.

The set included calisthenics dancers wearing swordfish masks, fibre optic headwear, black flower bodysuits and performing slow-mo stage fighting is, and needless to say I was peaking like a motherbitch at this point. Steele’s execution of the EOTS sun was fairly flawless and the man probably could have saved a chunk of change by cutting the budget of the costume department. It was one radio hit after the next, We Are The People and Standing on the Shore making the giant crowd bustle and hustle, with the dirty squelches of Swordfish Hotkiss Night being a highlight. But it was the finale of Walking On A Dream, Luke Steele donning the trademark teal suit and gold crown, that made the tent boom with one big universal: “Is it REEEAAAALLLLLL NOW WHEN TWO PEEEEOPLE BECOME ONE…”

Our mouths still gaping, next was award-winning DJ extraordinaire A-Trak. I watch a total of one song before I start hallucinating that there are ripples on the ground, remember I have a uni assingment the next day and blindly decide to catch the bus home.
Five hours later I was still awake and absolutely entranced by KungFu Panda on TV. "It's such amazing graphics"....

til next year.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Monday, September 28, 2009

feast of kings

When five birds get together at BBQ City, culinary carnage ensues...


Wow, so someone boldy nominated themselves to put my keyboarded verbal diorrhea into the glossy pages of a magazine. Look in Merge each month for more episodes of Miranda and friends drunken debauchery!

Tuesday, September 22, 2009



aaaahhhaha... (forced laugh)

god the twilight books are really fucking terrible.

eleanor borrowed the set and i started reading one


Are you reading one


ew, drinking liquid LOL and reading twilight

what's next?

rave pants??


the only reason why its addictive is because horny, acned 15 year olds clutch on for the kissing scenes

5 pages of rubbish then ...

edward lightly touched her temple with a frozen fingertiop



They rub their pus filled sores onto the pages


Edward lightly touched her forehead with a frozen paddle pop





I'm going to rewrite Twilight with copious amounts of product placement

in the place of previous metaphors

Streets will sponsor me


paddlepop every 5th word


Edward paddlepop with paddlepop her


oh edward, she whispered, stroking his paddlepop

gazing into her paddlepops, he gently stroked her paddlepop

we're going to have a golden gaytime, my love... he smouldered

11:29pm Angus

He Magnum Ego'd her Callipo Splice with his Cornetto

his Cornetto


emphasis on Cornetto.

getting filthier by the minute. it's all there between the lines anyway, just marred by digression into sparkly vampire skin


Vampire skin is the magic coat that makes everything alright

The holocaust was ok because Hitler was a Vampire!!



then hed still be alive..


No mussolini killed him with garlic


Maybe he just sold him to Zamels.

words that i like

lozenge, pixel, gnarled, capsule, axylotyl, sprite, padded, vermillion, quill, jezebel, aubergine, spectre

Monday, September 21, 2009

Sunday, September 20, 2009


I have officially hit that milestone age of twenty-one.

Now I can purchase alcoholic beverages in the states and gamble. I can also legally become a prostitute, buy a gun, get married in Mississippi, purchase fireworks, open a bank account in South America and vote in some other countries.

However, twenty one years of living and thousands spent on bus tickets, I can still proudly say I don't have my my drivers license....

Maybe by my 30th I'll have my L plates. Maybe. For now, the ol' public transport will have to cart my slackass around town.

This is what I wore on the weekend for our party. Pedobear in the hizzouse.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Saturday, August 22, 2009

make your band more web-friendly

Recently all of my food money went towards a new laptop. I am now living in the depths of poverty-stricken squalor, but on a brighter note I have a shiny new keyboard. Which has provoked the following list...

Impossible band names that lead to equally as impossible /band URL's on MySpace

That was... how many nananana's now? Chrome Rainbow is a sweet song though and worth the extra finger movement.

Those little Icelandic dots eeeek.

Vomit. The name and the band.

Alright, admittedly they changed it to Trail of the Dead, but those full stops weren't great when trying to categorise your iTunes..

Grammar confoozledness.

Singlehandedly most used word on the Net with "sex" coming a close second.

If only every band was called "The Music". Wait, no I totally take that back.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Monday, August 3, 2009



I'm recently feeling disheartened by Triple J. Namely because of the employment of one Scott Dooley and his sidekick Steph Hughes. God, sorry but you both just fucking suck. And are stupid too.. I tune in and you're talking about farts for a whole five minutes. Then tampons. Just fuck off, you are insulting my intelligence and if I have to hear that "Givealittlelovin" or whatsit by Gotye one more time I'm going to lose my shit.

Dools: "We're doing a bit of talkback today... Wait, what are we talking about?"
Steph: "....(pause)... when have you.. er, cracked the shits!"

Oh, profound.

Uni timetable impending credit transfer DEATH.

For some reason my room smells like freshly mowed grass. I have no explanation for this.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

earthquake weather

I push I pull the days go slow into a void we filled with death
And noise that laughs falls off their maps
All cured of pain and doubts in your little brain

Saturday, July 4, 2009

How to Live as a Pseudo-Renter: part 1

Of late I've been living a life of which can only be surmised as "pseudo-renter".
It's a status that has left me stumped in conversations when asked about my living arrangements, and has slowly but surely turned me into the girl lugging three Green bags worth of shit through Rundle Mall trying to send a text message.

Example; "Miranda, want to go get Raj on Taj?" "Why yes, yes I do. In fact, I live just around the cor.. well, I don't actually
live there, but I kind of do, but I'm sleeping there and paying a bit of rent, but not much.. but I still live at home, and..." And so on.


1 bedroom in expensive Burnside, mortgage-free, parental house to hold all 'yer loot
1 partner living out of home (male/female variety)
3-5 Green bags (Woolworthes pref, as most durable and w. longer straps) to carry all your shit
1 job in the hospitality industry, for free Turkish Bread to take home to your hungry housemates
A thirst for washing the dishes
1 laptop (or, alternatively, use partner's while out of house.)
5 multitrips
1 iPod
30+ pairs underwear

So you've got yourself set for the "move". This is how it works. You and your new interest have started sleepovers. You're staying there a little bit more each week, until you're in full bore housemate mode. You're part of the furniture. Another shadow on the wall. Another hair in the plug hole. That is until the other housemates start to notice. Namely, the food shelf is looking a bit sad with an extra stomach to feed.

So, what do we do? Simple. (This is where ingredient #4 comes exceptionally handy) Make sure you get the closing shifts at your cafe job and, taking one of your Woolworth's green bags, load those babies up with all kinds of bready delights at the end of the day.

Take this Pavlova, for example. Looks expensive, right?


This pavlova was created entirely from donated egg whites from work and old sugar found in a jar. A perfect example of how a combination of poverty and a cafe job can really whip up (ho ho!) a storm. Once everyone in the house is nourished, it makes for merry times.

And there you have phase 1 of seguing into an out-of-homer's life. You just gotta ease the move sloooowly, like a water birth. Or like putting honey in your tea. Or something.

Living with new Gen Y tenants Is going to make you VERY VERY DRUNK ALL THE TIME YES ALL THE TIME DRUNK ALL THE TIME. Prepare your livers, cadets.

**This is a most crucial ingredient. Without the element of a relationship in there, your pseudo-rental proposition to housemates might not go down so well. A new squeeze to have your back is preferable, as they will be most supportive of you being in their bed most of the time. 'Knah what I'm saying.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Friday, June 5, 2009

the cons(or pro's) of buying a second-hand iPod

I think this may be the best eBay purchase I've ever made.

Let's just see a close-up...

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

adelaide crowds: the ultimate bitch...

If you’ve been in tune with Modular’s latest exports in the past 12 months, if you’re familiar with the dance anthem “My People”, hell, if you’ve got a pair of ears, you’ve heard of The Presets.

Apparently, Adelaide hasn't.

Still brushing the storming success of 2008’s sophomore LP Apocalypso off their shoulders, duo Julian Hamilton and Kim Moyes have no plans to stop there. With an ARIA and a J Award both for Best Album of the Year under their belts, the Presets have proved to be a beam of light it what has otherwise been a music industry dip. The K-Rudd stimulus package of music.

They're touring at the moment, playing at Thebbie last Friday night. And all I have to say is WTF. Although a craftsman should never blame his tools, it must be said the crowd was fucking awful. Granted, the Friday show was a sponteanous addition due to Saturday night’s ticket allocation exhaustion, but really – with a dishonourable nod to Live at the Zoo crowds included this was terrible. And that's a BIG call. Just look at the cretins that rocked up to Monarto...

Live at the Zoo. Speaking for itself.

So I can only assume their doting fans were saving themselves for the next night. Or everyone was way too dosed up on crystal meth. Or they all had their periods...

But something, SOMETHING was up, as the entire night there were only about 20 people really getting into it. I'm talking this: standing still, lightly bobbing head, folding arms, oh should we.. should we bounce a bit? Oh - chorus! Okay, lets raise our fists! Okay let's not, too much dance gusto. I'll just jump around 4 times. That should do it. Eep verse, time to stand and look interested again. Jesus. I mean, these guys are one of the biggest bands in Australia. They heralded their entry to the stage with smoke machines and a backdrop of rectangle neon lights. At least dance a bit more to show your apprecation. I don't even like them that much, but I danced like hell anyway. This may or may not have had to do with some chemical influence I had taken 30 minutes earlier.

After manoeuvring my way through the mosh to varying locations – the front of the stage, the sides and the back - I found little difference no matter where I stood. The situation was as such: you stood still like the rest of the lemmings and had a shit time. Or you danced. I chose the latter, and was soon met with a hearty shove in the back by a guy trying to protect his girlfriend from my ‘violent’, apparently, dancing. Biggest "GTFO" moment of my life. Because I was high on drugs and sweaty and because my hair is notoriously annoying in mosh pits (long and wavy), I kept on dancing into him anyway. Take that fucker!

One of the Presets punters. I think the girl on the left ate the good times.

As they worked their way through Apocalypso the tense conditions slightly improved, with tracks like Are You The One? and new single release If I Know You receiving great crowd response. For a while. As the gig progressed, the look of disappointment on Preset’s faces was deplorable. And I can’t say that I blame them. Even a brilliant finale ofMy People did little but make a handful of people quiver during the chorus. At this point I thought "Fuck this," got up on my mate's shoulders and had a borderline epileptic fit while thrusting my fists in Julian's direction. Took one for the team.

Scroll to the 1:40 mark, and note the audience not moving at all

As a South Australian music writer I'm all about getting gigs in our home town. But seriously, Live at the Zoo and then this embarrassment. Come the fuck on. Stop bitching about bands never playing here if you guys aren't even going to throw down your guard and dance a little bit.

Adelaide once again stayed true to its “city of folded arms” reputation. Bad form. My solution is MOAR BEERZ.

I can has moshpit?