brunswicked

2008-01-14T14:29:00.000+11:00

A conversation I had with Nigel Koop back in 2004 is up on the interwebs.

Check it out here

Stanley Melbourne Bruce

2007-11-05T10:29:00.000+11:00

Dear Mr Bruce,

How are you? I know you've been dead for 40 years, but it still doesn't hurt to ask. It's a shame you died in London, as the countryside to the east of Melbourne is quite a nice area, even with the cow shit and paper mills stinking the place up these days. Back then it would have been a nice place to see out your retirement, maybe pop down to Lakes Entrance or Snake Island to let the waves lapping against the shore count out your final days. Did you ever catch the boat between Australia and England? I'm a big fan of boat journeys and the contradictory isolation one feels sailing across a vast ocean. It's a bit like driving through the middle of Australia. All that space surrounding you highlighting your insignificance on this planet. Yet the people I know who have seen these places and felt this insignificance are the same people who care the most about their impact on this earth. Weird ey? I'm guessing with your love affair of the old boy English pomp lifestyle, your ability to promote fear of community and your pretty Rolls Royce that you took the plane.

Anyway, I was writing to let you know that your solo historic gig may be about to end. Hopefully the next person who might be set to join you wont spend their twilight years representing Australia at the UN.

Regards

Dan Murphy

jedi mind tricks

2007-11-03T21:12:00.000+11:00

After watching the first episode of Long Way Round on the telly tonight, you can pretty much throw out anything I write here about hanging around Melbourne for the long term.

Not having any problems readjusting to normal life.. not at all.

errm..

Now then. I'm off to the pub.

getting stuck

2007-11-01T11:29:00.000+11:00

On the way in this morning, I noticed something that really typified Melbourne for me. In Carlton, just next to Princes Park, a BMW X5 pulled past me. As the expensive luxury car this is, it didn’t seem out of place, whisking its suited occupant off to a high-flying job through the leafy inner city suburb. What got me was the Triple R sticker proudly stuck on the back window. When was the last time you saw a luxury SUV cruising around Adelaide sporting a 3D Radio sticker?

Like seeing women in their 40s sitting in a Shibuya café playing Sony PSPs, a gaggle of Viennese grandmothers riding bikes or families bathing naked together in the Bodensee, the way people interact with their surroundings says a lot about the culture in which they live. Seeing how cramped a Tokyo subway or apartment is gave me an insight into why the Japanese technology manufacturers are so obsessed with making things small. The old and narrow streets of European towns cause some of the worst traffic jams I’ve ever seen and were best navigated by bike. And watching a group of old FKK men play a game of nude volleyball in a public park showed that these people were comfortable with the natural human form.

I’ll always adore and be proud of my home town of Adelaide. It is a beautiful city, with lovely beaches, a fantastic obsession with green and the best pies, flavoured milk and wine in the country. The consistent weather, the small town feel, with a social scene ensuring your solo trip out of the house on a Saturday night will always end in pints of Pale with mates at the Exeter.

The only negative comment I can make is that Adelaide is that as a society, it is pretty conservative. This did end for short time under Dunstan’s watch, but in general it is a restrictive town to the point of suffocation. This next statement may labels me as a bit of a hypocrite, but the attitude that all your dreams can only be achieved east of Keith is a self-defeating, self-perpetuating fallacy. As the centralised, affluent and small population city it is, Adelaide is actually a pretty good place to make your creative experiments happen. Thanks to the mass exportation of talent and ideas to the bigger cities, your competition isn't that strong. Just be prepared to do it yourself.

At the start of 2003, after seeing what the kids at RMIT had achieved with Syn FM and Syn TV, I approached the powers that be at Adelaide Uni to assist and support in the creation of a university backed, television production. They (actually just the singular he), said no, saying that it was too difficult to arrange the production of a television show and that we had no idea what we were on about. Being a stubborn bastard with a 'will do' attitude, I dealt directly with C31, acquired the equipment through pulling favors and buying it on the cheap ($100 vision switching desk at auction was key), and made a television show with the help of a small, but enthusiastic team of radio peeps. Welcome to the birth of Student TV.

Our first show sucked. During the filming, we plugged video leads into the wrong ports, screwed white balances, broke instruments and took the radio station we were filming at off air for 15 minutes. And when it came to editing and delivering the program, the edit went bad twice, was delivered to the TV station without a time code or rating and lacked about a dozen other technical requirements for something that is broadcast. And if that wasn’t enough, the first band to be featured on the program was Booster Suction Inlets, fronted by Crazy “I drip candle wax on my exposed genitals” Alex, who’s first song of the set was Evil female henchmen suck the best cock. A flying start.

But we got better. After producing another 5 programs, we learnt how to do it properly. By program 8 we had ourselves a small audience and by program 10 we were getting fairly good, non-press release orientated write-ups in dB and rip it up. We went elsewhere for funding and it wasn’t until program 16 that Adelaide Uni showed any interest in what we were doing, and program 19 before they officially came to the C31 table and started discussing possibilities. By program 24 the team that had been there from the start was over it, and we stopped making shows after almost 7 months of productions. Now with the ultra-conservative VSU firmly in place, I don’t see there being any room for experiments like this without the backing of the academia.

Melbourne is a place that encourages and fosters creativeness. The mainstream values and embraces artists by supporting their creativity and the rich show their appreciation by buying them out of their old factory studio apartments in Collingwood. Things are eaier to make happen here. You've got a larger population, a decentralised social scene and a large mix of people form all different countries, cultures and backgrounds. There's public places like Ceres and Federation Square that, if you'll excuse me for using this term, bravely challenge the Australian norm by presenting a viable alternative to hiding on your couch, watching Eddie making another one (just like you), a milyonair. And despite there being an element of Melbourne’s society where the acquisition of cash and measurement of success is inched out by what car you drive and mobile you own, the city’s ability to embrace culture and lifestyle over business and money still is heads and shoulders above any other city in Australia.

One thing that amazed me with the people I met while overseas was the ease of which they would uproot their lives and move to another city. Whether it be for study, work or love, people of all different ages, backgrounds and lifestyles were totally comfortable with shifting their context, all in an effort to create a better life for themselves. This was evident mostly in Europe, where people would overcome the challenges of different countries, culture and languages to get that degree, pursue that degree or chase that girl. Poor as fuck eastern Europeans sharing beds, working shit jobs and wearing hand me downs just to make it happen in the West. Seeing these transient people highlighted my own fear and reluctance of seeing what it was like to live in another city of Australia. But as this realisation was dawning on me, the pull of home was becoming great. By setting up shop here in Melbourne, I have struck the balance between wanting to be home and still wanting adventure. And while the plans for jetting off to another life in bigger, crazier places are still alive and well, my time here in Melbourne may be longer than originally planned.

To keep things interesting though, I'm putting a Triple M sticker on my bike just to get the next X5 driver who’s paying attention thinking.

well...

2007-10-28T19:09:00.000+11:00

I can cross that idea off the list: link

academia is a form of autism

2007-10-26T11:18:00.000+10:00

discuss

silent killers

2007-10-22T18:13:00.000+10:00

Here's a nice bit of green flavoured irony: While riding my bike into the city this morning, I nearly got cleaned up by someone driving a Prius, but not in the usual 'car hits cyclist' way. Unlike a conventional car, the Prius is quiet and therefore can be driving right next to you without the usual sounds and noises of a regular combustion engine alerting you to its presence. So while I was riding in the bike lane I didn't sense the car was there, and was surprised and slightly frightened when I caught a glimpse of it in my peripheral. I reacted to this surprise by jumping a curb, loosing traction on wet grass and narrowly missed ploughing headlong into a tree.

Martin, you might want to disregard the "health benefits" section of that email I sent you last week.

on ya bike

2007-10-17T17:54:00.000+10:00

Subject: Cycling
From: dan murphy
To: Martin.Ferguson.MP@aph.gov.au
Date: Oct 17, 2007 2:50 PM

Hi Martin

How are you? I see that you are the shadow minister for transport. Is that a fun job? How do you get to work every day? I'm a regular cyclist and if the ALP win the next election, I would like to see a federal initiative to encourage more people to use bicycles. I feel a program that gets more people riding bicycles would work towards a healthier Australia, both in regards to the health of the people and the health of the environment. And at a time when people are keen to address the problems of climate change and personal health, this would be a great opportunity to lead the charge on such an issue.

Perhaps funding a parallel highway project similar to those found in Europe, where federally operated roads are paired with smaller roads and paths to create a viable alternative to driving. This would not only make it safer for people who ride long distances, but it would also act as an attractive tourist destination for foreigners who enjoy bike touring. Maybe working with the states to ease city road congestion by offering tax incentives to those who ride to work rather than drive. Whichever way you wish to do it, getting more people out of their cars and onto bikes has to be a good thing. It reduces the strain on the roads, lessens the pollution in our cities, frees up space on public transport and keeps Australians fit and healthy.

I thank you for your time and wish you and your party the best of luck during the upcoming election.

Regards

Dan Murphy

my headphones they saved my life

2007-10-15T21:50:00.000+10:00

his head was feeling light...
you know the rest.

tea tree

2007-10-14T15:54:00.000+10:00

My uncle Kevin has some great stories. Shooting feral cats. Stealing the siren from the local football field and installing it in his panel van. The possibility that this year will be the Sainter's turn for the flag. Basil the sheep leaning how to open and close gates. His aboriginal mate who used to fly the local crop dusting plan. The possum falling through the roof in the old house while he was watching TV. Even his voice conjures up memories of my grandparent's farm and rural Victoria. His relaxed country friendliness reminds me of my childhood and his mannerisms remind me of spending school holidays with my cousins. He was the first adult to let me drive a car around the farm (although my sister reckons we stole it), and one of the few people to give me a swift kick in the arse for doing something wrong (see stealing car).

One of my favourite stories of his was about the house he used live in St Kilda during the 70s. Every time he or his housemates made a cup of tea, they would throw the used bag out the kitchen window and snare it in the branches of a nearby tree. When the colder months came and the leaves died and fell away, the old teabags remained hanging like shrivelled fruit or lynched mice. He said that this was never talked about in the house or commented on when someone flung a fresh bag out of the window.

I'm not sure if this memory of the tree is from an actual photo or that of an over active childhood imagination, but it is an image that has remained with me and something I think of every time I dispose of a used teabag. It is this memory that has inspired me to start doing the same here at my new house over the last week. Currently, the fig tree in the back yard is host to a teabag graveyard with a population of about ten, which is growing by the day. Assuming their not reading this, I wonder how long it will take my flatmates to catch on?

O+

2007-10-13T15:31:00.000+10:00

A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I enjoyed free milkshakes and muffins. But there was a catch. We first had to donate blood. For some reason I got the hankering to give blood while overseas but found that the countries I tried to do it didn't accept blood from dirty foreigners. This meant waiting until I got back to give it a shot. And when I heard that the Red Cross on Bourke street rewarded donors with milkshakes, the thought of making an outing of it with a friend appealed to me. Now I hate needles. A distaste founded in unpleasant childhood experiences and reinforced by those bloodthirsty butchers at CMAX (who would inflict a different variety of needle related pain every time I went in for my weekly blood test), it wasn't something I was in a hurry to repeat. That voluntary guinea pigging at CMAX did eventually paid off with the purchase of my new bike, but my visceral reaction to my generous thoughts conflicted with one another. I bit the bullet, and opened the invite to a few people, but only one stepped up to the plate. The brave Sarah. The day came and we met out the front of the Red Cross. As I had not given blood before, I was excited, nervous and curious all at the same time. We entered.

The staff were really nice, but the questions were quite comprehensive. After filling out our forms, we were taken into separate offices and asked further questions (Have you had any tattoos in the last 12 months? How many countries have you been to in the last two years? Have you had sex with someone you think might have an STD?). Then the nurses did a hemoglobin test to see if I was able to give blood. Both of us passed the test and we then were led into the testing area, where about a dozen chairs of the dentist variety sat waiting for us. As I hopped onto the chair, the nurse pressed a few buttons and the chair began to raise, unfold and recline itself. It felt like I was in a space shuttle, about to be blasted into space. As the nurse started prepping my skin for the big pointy needle, a cold, prickly feeling flushed across my body. I looked over at Sarah sitting in the chair next to mine and made a stupid face while the other nurse did her thing. I felt a little sting and the needle was in. Surprisingly the pain wasn't that bad. CMAX peeps, take note. As I watched the blood collect in the bags next to me, the little numbers on the scales clicked their way up to the 500ml. I gripped at the rubber thing they gave me, took a few photos and laid back waiting. Sarah's first attempt fell though and she was unable to donate blood using her right arm, so the nurse swapped to her left and carried on. After about 15 minutes, I had almost finished and started to dread the withdrawal procedure. Again, this didn't hurt anywhere as much as I thought it would and was a lot quicker than I expected.

As dudes usually take less time to donate blood than girls do, I sat reading the paper while I waited for Sarah to finish. You don't invite people for milkshakes, expect them to cop a needle in the arm, give up half a litre of blood and then not wait for them to finish before you suck down your milkshake. Whether actual or psychosomatic, I was feeling a bit light headed and wasn't able to concentrate on the newspaper, so I started chatting to this middle aged woman laying on a couch near the window. I asked if she needed anything but she said she was ok. I asked how long she had been laying down. She said since 11am. It was almost 4pm. She said she had been donating for a few years and today was the first time she had opted for the plasma only donation method, which is where the blood is taken from the body, the plasma is separate from the blood cells and collected, with the cells then returned to the body via another needle. She said she started feeling weird about 5 minutes in and the nurses stopped the procedure. I had never heard of this method of blood donation before and after hearing her story I think I might give it a miss.

Once Sarah was finished about 10 minutes after me, we ordered our milkshakes. I was a little disappointed that they didn't have lime flavour, and opted for a choc-banana. Sarah got a blue heaven, which tastes a lot more like blue than I thought it would. I hear that when you donate in Adelaide, they give you a Coopers stout afterwards. When I mentioned this to a friend a few days before donating, they said stout was one of the best things to give to someone who's just given blood or a girl who suffers from heavy periods as it helps to replenish blood quicker than most other foods. To test this theory, Sarah and I went to the pub afterwards. and after two beers, I achieved the euphoric feeling associated with being drunk minus the haze. Not sure what it did for my blood count, but I almost repeated the Bathroom of Fear incident while using the loo just before we left. Thankfully there were no Finnish heavy metal fans there to help out.

Yesterday I received my donor card in the mail and now know my blood type: O Positive. I share this blood type with 40% of Australians. The 500ml of blood I donated can help anywhere from 1 to 10 people and while I can donate to people with all other blood types, I am only able to receive blood from other O groups. Sometime it is better to give than receive.

I'm next going for milkshakes in December. Join me if you're keen.

pay what you want

2007-10-10T15:56:00.000+10:00

I like Radiohead. Now that they are free of record contracts and music industry shackles, they have recorded an album and offering it up in digital form to their fans for as much as their fans wish to pay. I dig this concept, so I shimmied up $15AUD for a digital copy and am currently waiting for it to finish downloading. There is also a rather slick looking vinyl, cd, book and digital copy available for ₤40, but that goes a little further than my ~~budget~~ fandom permits.

*update*
First listen thoughts: It seems that Radiohead can only disappoint their fans by cancelling shows (cue memories of about 15 long faces nursing beers at Lambs Go Bar on a certain Tuesday night in 2004). Being free from the industry's shackles means they can do whatever they want... which is exactly what they've done. Then again, do you think Radiohead has been in the position during their last three albums, where a suit comes into the studio and told them to do something different? As with any album, this requires a few more listens before I can pick favourites. There is certainly stronger tracks on there, but you know, dancing to architecture and all that.

Buyer beware: The download you pay for is only the first disc of a two-disc set. And multi-disc albums usually come with the problem of not having an independent party in the studio culling tracks, telling the band that what they have come up with is too little spread too thin, and to go back and come up with something more concise. If this isn't the case and the second half of the album is an equal to the first without making some tracks just look like padding, the band is truly offering up something worthwhile for their fans to cough up that 40 quid for. I guess we'll have to wait until the other disc is floating out there to make that call.

Help us Spaceghost.

In other news, my bike's new name is Phar Lap.

Hey, wha' happened?

2007-10-08T20:22:00.000+10:00

I was worried there for a while. Flipping open my laptop to get a dose of entertainment, be it music, video, email, flickr, facebook, youtube, etc. Somehow I'd end up in the entertainment equivalent of a poorly executed three point turn in a tight alleyway, and just go back and forth banging against the same thing I had banged into seconds before. Good lord. Just like my argument against buying a 10,000+ song capacity iPod, when I had surfed the ten or so different sites I regularly peruse, instead of exploring the other 16,000,000,000 websites out there, I'd just go back to the start and do the rounds again. Even just switching of my laptop and returning to the real world would have been preferable to checking who had just updated their status, commented on my photos or on the rare occasion, emailed me the good old fashion way. But the dependence I had on my laptop and a skeletal book collection as my primary source of entertainment was leaving me with little alternatives. Both activities are so engrossing, there is no room for doing something else.

Until I Craig lent me his stereo. Fucking cool. I unpacked my CD collection and fired up music I haven't listened to for a couple of years and danced around my room. A very different way to pass the time.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch:

Radiohead have a new album. By the way their website is worded, you'd think that Bill Drummond was their new press officer.

PJ Harvey also has a new album out.

I have uploaded a new video.

In the last few days, I've been rescuing photos from the Russia / Mongolia / China / Japan part of the trip I was on last year. The DVD I burnt off and sent home was corrupted, which I didn't know until I had deleted them from my drive. There's a whole bunch missing, never to be seen again. But there's a good lot from Russia I've not seen since I took them. I'll be uploading them to flickr over the next few days.

And finally, a good friend has left Melbourne for foreign shores and now I'm missing their company dearly. And I'm not talking about the German I met at Changi airport who I offered a place to stay while she was in town.

new video page

2007-10-02T01:59:00.001+10:00

where you can find my videos:

mildanimatedviolence.blogspot.com

dogs in space

2007-09-26T10:23:00.000+10:00

Moving into a new house is always an adventure. Particularly if you move into a share house where the existing flatmates have history. They have all developed their own way of relating to one another, working out a chemistry of their own years ago, and thanks to my intimate vantage point, I can see this stuff play out. While it would make for some fairly amusing blogging; out of respect for the others (and my safety while I sleep), I'm going to avoid writing about my house mates. Needless to say it is an interesting mix.

But the actual house is fair game.

This place is massive with so many little hidey holes, nooks and the occasional cranny offering up surprise after surprise, adding to the share house mystique. There are 1.5 bathrooms here. There's the one inside right next to my room (which admittedly is a little tired and run down), and there's the left overs of a bathroom out in the laundry just off the back porch. I think if anyone from overseas comes to visit, I'll make them use that one so they can meet all of Australia's poisonous insects in one place (what is the handshaking protocol with a spider?).

Not to feel left out in the inner suburbs of Melbourne, this house does have an extra toilet outside, which lacks a door and visible signs of porcelain, thanks to someone getting stoned in the 1980s and spray-painting the whole thing with red paint. The inside toilet is shared with the inside bathroom, which as I mentioned earlier, appears to have a very experienced life of its own. The bath has a kind of enamel Eczema, with chunks of white shiny surface dotted in a random archipelago over the dull undercoat of the metal. The plug hole as a snail trail of rust leading up to it, which if viewed at a certain angle with water and soap in your eyes, shares a likeness with the Soccer World Cup. The taps have this menacing look about them, with the thought of slipping over and them taking an eye out firmly planted in the back of your mind while showering. The bathroom cupboard is arranged using a bazaar Tetris algorithm, so I have opted for the wait and see approach, keeping my toothbrush and shaver in my room until a vacant spot opens up on its own accord. This is all of course assuming that you can actually get into the bathroom in the first place.

On the first couple of nights here, I was slightly traumatised when I went to use the loo. When I tried to the bathroom door, the knob wouldn't turn, so I assumed it was locked and someone was using the toilet. I went back about 5 minutes later and tried again. This time I turned the knob the other way and it felt like it was going to open, but thanks to the door sticking, it felt as if a secondary lock was preventing entry. Again I assumed it was occupied and went back to my room. 10 minutes later, with my eyeballs floating, I returned to the bathroom door, knocked, got no answer and opened it with a little more force, only to met with the sound of the creaking hinges resembling an unimpressed voice saying "no", with the slight resistance of the sticking door feeling like someone pushing the door closed from the other side. Slightly freaked out and not wanting to rock the new flatmate boat, I said "sorry", closed the door and ventured towards the back door to use the emergency outside toilet. On my there I passed through the lounge room where all the other house mates were watching TV. I looked around, and asked who was in the toilet. They all exchanged looks that implied crazy person stood before them and all shrugged in unison.

As for the location, from the front porch, you can see the lights of Mooney Valley racecourse, with a view of the trotts achieved by standing on a chair. The sunsets are beautiful, with the inner-Western suburbs painted onto the nearby hills, with the pointy yellow thing of Citylink jutting out above the houses about 2kms away. I can ride to town or my sister's in under 15 minutes, one of my favourite cafes is about a 20-minute walk and the shops are pretty close. There's a tram around the corner and the street is close enough to a main road to be easy to find, but far enough as not to have any noise problems. The backyard is functionally big, but requires a bit of a tidy before I can host summertime bbqs (which there will be many). On the down side, I have no furniture. I need a desk, a cupboard and a computer monitor. The shed contains the ghosts of flatmate past, with a desk that is frustratingly off limits and my ability to transport big things is slightly impaired. Still, no one has set fire to a television, interrupted an interview with David Bowie on Countdown by starting a chainsaw, died of a heroin overdose or thrown their underwear against the wall to see if they stick there.

Yet.

Maya Juliette

2007-09-23T23:22:00.001+10:00

my little niece
born 10:24am
23 September 2007
3.7kg - 8.17lbs
53cm

uncle dan

2007-09-23T13:21:00.000+10:00

Congratulations to Jo and Craig on the birth of their little girl Maya Juliette.

Wow.. I have a niece. Everyone was certain Jo was having a boy. Me included. The kid is still getting a Tonka truck though. No gender specific toys on my watch. I'm about to venture up to the hospital to see how everyone is going. Photos later tonight.

From the depths of a hard drive

2007-09-22T11:24:00.000+10:00

Greg & Al - Smoke
Set to video from Turkish Star Wars

And I thought I had lost the master copy of this.

moved in proper like

2007-09-20T11:29:00.000+10:00

Last night was my first night in my new place so now it's all official. I live in Melbourne. The house is a big old place, which has its toilet indoors and isn't falling to bits, hidden in the back streets of West Brunswick. The location is great, as the centre of town is about 2km one way and my sister's is about 3km the other way. The other flatmates, who I only met last week, are all pretty laid back and easy to get along with. The rent is cheap. The shops are close. What more can I ask for? Perhaps some furniture to put my crap away in and some pictures hanging on the wall. If you've got a desk, draws, side table and other miscellaneous bedroom furniture you want to part with, let me know and I'll take it off your hands. I want to throw a dinner party to warm the place up a bit next week sometime and have a few people over. No dates or times yet, but watch this space.

Still looking for work - anything to avoid the drudgery of Centrelink.

Over the weekend I went back to Adelaide to say hello to everyone again. I was actually surprised at how much fun I had. It wasn't even the novelty of being back that made it good. Hanging out with old friends, people who I had more than a week of history with, was fantastic. Many D&Ms with close mates, beers at familiar places and a ripper of a party to get a little crazy at. Some odd things happened, but I got to chill with good mates, drink beer at the Exeter, play some tennis, eat good pies with iced coffee, stay at my old house, dig through extended crap and dress up as the man from Uranus. Again.

A successful weekend that reaffirmed my fond feelings for Adelaide.

In other news, I love the Internet.

Adelaide

2007-09-14T12:23:00.000+10:00

The streets are much wider there
Nothing much happens there
Adelaide I'm coming home.. to you.

I'm floating about this fine city of Adelaide for the weekend. If you're up for chatting about stuff (yeah... I like stuff, do you?), or confronting me about a book I borrowed off of you 5 years ago but never returned, give me a ring on 0449 53 9797 and we can do fun stuff.

The Ninth of November

2007-09-11T16:41:00.000+10:00

What were you doing on November 9 2001?

I'm guessing you have no idea, right? But imagine if you could remember all the mundane things that were happening around you from every single day of your entire life like you do when the anniversary of a significant historical event ticks by. It might be a contender for a generic topic of conversation, up there with the weather and local sporting teams, but in practise, it would be utter madness.

I will forever remember this day, September 11 2007, as the day I received much good news from several different sources. Through a random conversation in a cafe, I have found a place to live here in Melbourne. One of my job applications I spent the weekend working on has yielded a positive response and my 2008 plans are still on track. My sister has yet to make me an uncle, but who wants today to be their birthday? Oh.. and happy birthday Truck.

Here's a new video

cover letter

2007-09-09T11:01:00.000+10:00

To whomever it may concern

I do not suck. Honest. But if it helps me get the job, I will consider my options.

Please find attached a list of previous jobs that I have either been fired from or have quit because it screwed with my qi; a list of education achievements and qualifications that clearly have not got me a job already; a list of my friends who have impressive sounding positions that can vouch for my non-sucking qualities (unless that is your thing); and a mission statement that makes me preempt the feeling of the soulless number I hope to become in your faceless corporation in order to flesh out an existence and become a useful member of a society that I lost faith in years ago.

Sincerely yours

Dan Murphy

PS - I have a suit and tie if that helps.

What a way to spend a beautiful Sunday morning.

maintain your rage

2007-09-08T01:57:00.000+10:00

Last night I met up with Dan, Suzie (who are living here), and Emma, who's over here for an interview. We had cocktails at one of my favourite little spots: Bar Nothing. 6 cocktails for $20. Yes please. Couches, chilled music and Humphrey B Bogart playing on old B&W TVs. Gold. A fun night that ended like any good night should: with cake.

Today I found out the place I was looking at here in Melbourne, which is really close to my sister's, a bike track, a train, a tram and the CBD, went to the other guy who was looking at it. Understandably, I was a bit bummed after hearing that. But within an hour of the bad news, I had an offer to house sit for a 10 day strtch and another two offers of couches to crash on for the next month or so. While I appreciate the offers and will take them on for the short term, after the last 18 months of surfing, I'm am really hanging out for a place to call my own. The hunt is on. A room in Melbourne until February shouldn't be too hard to find. Ha! The rental market here is a totally different kettle of fish than what I'm used to. I heard an encouraging story about how rental properties are opened up to the prospective tenants and a bidding war is then conducted there in the place of interest to determine the per month rental price. The number you see on the advert in the paper is merely a suggestion, and quite often dictates the starting price of the auction, rather than the reserve. The horror. The horror.

I'm just about to go to bed after hanging out with my sister at home while Craig goes out for a night on the turps. Maybe his last for a while. It was a rad night, where Jo painted her final picture for the animal trio that will reside in the nursery, I played around with MixMeister on my laptop, stringing together about 40 80s tracks together. Once we entered the world of 80s music, it wasn't long until the Sing Star 80s got pulled out of the cupboard. There's something uniquely odd about sober karaoke in one's home with only one other person. Give it a try. Jo did quite well at Karma Chameleon, while my 6,500 point rendition of Material Girl from xmas 2005 has yet to be beaten. Then we sat down to watch Die Hard 4. I love a dumb movie that says a few smart things, wrapped up in $150,000,000 worth of escapism. Then we popped on Rage and No Through Road's new film clip was on (nice and pretty). It was cool to see people I know on the telly and Jo had a giggle, remembering her Ianto High Panto joke from her visit to Adelaide a couple of years ago. The clip segued into the next with an short excerpt from a Wolf and Cub video. Also knowing these guys (with Emma, who I caught up with last night appearing briefly in the clip), reminded me that yes, I am intrinsically linked to my home town, Adelaide.

I'm there next weekend to pick some stuff up, so keep your ears and eyes open for a get together of sorts.

the old and the new

2007-09-06T00:39:00.000+10:00

I was sitting on the couch watching some telly last Monday and Four Corners came on. I think it’s the first time I’ve cried when hearing a current affairs theme song play. I've missed Australia dearly and I'm loving being home. And I think that coming straight to Melbourne has eased the returning to Australia blues, which so far hasn’t touched me up inappropriately yet.

I’ve seen it all too often with friend’s who have come home after their own odyssey or world safari and have associated their return home with a parting with the energy and the feeling of freedom they discovered while waiting for a bus in a random Spanish village on a mild spring afternoon. This farewell reminds me of the arbitrary glass ceiling that turning 30 presents to some people, as if that marks the end of your lust for life and stopping of the song in the musical chairs pursuit for happiness. Watching one friend slowly dying in his job take on a world tour and return to the same shit job with a new purpose was a great template to go by. Sure, he was returning to the same old boring routine that made him want to pick up and leave in the first place, but now even the simple goal of future travel made his mundane day-to-day worth while. He’s been a much happier person since then. Travel isn't so good for the planet, but it is good for your well being if approached (and vacated), in the right way. I’m still trying to get my head around the steering wheels being on the other side.

This is a new blog. Reminiscing about my past travels will only be allowed if it relates to my current surroundings. Any extensive writing on a particular time and place from the last 18 months will be found on The Kevin Bacon Experiment. As for me right here, right now: I’m in Melbourne, which is a little strange for me. My entire family are Victorian (my folks moved to Adelaide just before I was born), and I’ve been visiting here every year since I was kid, so the move feels as if it has been a long time coming. While I’m the black sheep that says “Lego” funny and has a problem with Big M’s version of an Iced Coffee, I still know the city and surrounds as if they were my own, experiencing it like a home town on time lapse. Now it is my home town, for the next few months at least. Many things have changed since I left Australia and for the next few months, there are some very good reasons to be close to my family. A very exciting time.

By moving here, I don’t want to fall into the trap that many SA ex-pats before me have gotten into and indulge in Adelaide bashing. Yes it is small. Yes it is rather conservative. Yes footy is something the art elite care not for. But Adelaide will always be my home; I will always love the place and will defend it against unfair criticisms passionately. I’ll just do it from over here. For now.

If you’re living or visiting Melbourne, drop me a line and we’ll do beers.. or soy lattes, which seem to be quite popular here.