one night in osaka last november...

I found this draft...

last night was awesome. we are staying in Shinsaibashi in Osaka which has turned out in our favour to be a fucking awesome spot for fun times of the disorderly nature. it was about mmm 8 or 9ish, and time had eluded us as it often does here. it may have something to do with the fact that we don't wake up until lunchtime, but i digress... it was our first night knockin aboot in osaka, and it was a friday also which added to the concoction of fun. we (corey and trav and myself) decided to get some ramen and started to walk around our neighbourhood in searce of such a feast. immediately we were immersed in a sea of lights and shops and of course insane people on jitenshya adventures who ring their bike bells about 1 second before they slam the brakes on and you can almost feel their perfectly sculpted hair moving in the wind (pfft as if it moves) as they are thrown forward in motion. we walked aimlessly for a few minutes, until we came into a large (in japanese standards) clearing which had a circluar brick clearing with 2 levels seperated by steps. ok bad description, but i am hungover. the bottom was a circle, then it increased in size with the 2 or 3 steps, and the top level had seats and benches and a fountain. also now i know where all the rubbish bins of japan have gone. there were roughly 6 in that area, some days you might carry a bag of food rubbish and empty cans for 2 or 3 hours before you spot a bin... anyway... there were japanese skaters trick skating a makeshift ramp, and there were some anglo punks knocking about also, a few of which turned out to be from brunswick area in melbourne. as it is legal to drink on the streets here, everyone was steadily becoming more drunk thanks to the convenience store opposite us, selling a bevy of japanese beer and canned cocktails. the police showed up a few times to tell the skaters off, but as the skaters were mad sick rebels they kept skating. the police who aren't so fierce just kept coming back saying a few words here and there, and then disappearing. we then found out the police box was right next door. lawwwl. if it was melbourne, the cops would have smashed the boards to smithereens the second time they had to come back. i was trying to convince trav to make friends with the skaters and show them his moves, but he said he needed to be more drunk in order to get the courage (but that would severely deminish his skill) haha. He ended up making friends with some guy that owned a skate shop nearby, and he thought he was king of it all. corey and i were trying to shake off the attention of these japanese dudes who wanted us to go dancing with them hehehe. also corey was eyeballing this really stylish japanese girl and her friends, and then he went to get a drink. while he was gone she walked over to me and trav and was all "where do you from?" (so cute) and we thought they wanted to be our friends. turned out after a few minutes of chatting they were just working as recruiters for a club. getting people to go there. pfft. PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT!!!! yeah it was a busy night, so many new people. also this american guy we met called dave, his japanese was impecable, even despite the fact that he was paraletic drunk. he had this loud craziness about him that reminded me of matthew lillard (stu from scream / shaggy from scooby doo), he was a champpppp, so funny. he was just yelling out to locals and they would come up to him and chat and make friends, it was amazing. i think he was living / working in the area. anyway. america town triangle park is fun, you should go there. jk over and out

busking in japan-land

it crossed our minds that if we simply illegally busked, we could make a small fortune of yen, which would currently be next to nothing in AUD. After observing the lcoals, we decided that busking for coin is about as rare as seeing a cat dressed in a tutu sitting on a booster seat eating at a dinner table, and howling... oh wait i saw that on jap tv last night. disregard.. anyway, people here busk for the sheer joy. rockabilly guys dance around yoyogi park in harajuku for weekend shits and giggles, the cosplay kids primp and pose for no reason but to be admired, and musicians play in arcades just to make people smile. fuck that, a brothers gotta eat, i'm going to start a revolution where we make our living by begging, screw graduating college and "çhoosing" your job for life. even the homeless here are respectable and they take their shoes off before entering their own carboard capsules in the underground catacombs of hiroshima station. i have never once been aproached for coin. try walking down swanston street in melbz and see how many times the same aboriginal woman asks you for $2 and then record how many words beginning with C she can attack you with before you get a chance to get away with the green walky man. i got shunted there once, a guy actually was throwing himself shoulder first at people walking toward him in order to... i dont know really. jerk face. none of that in japan no no... if i had the courage and the heart of a lion i would totally busk, but i am a weed. lawl.

today i slept on a park bench in tokyo and my friend petted a homeless lady`s cat.

I wish i remembered more about this draft, but unfortunately I only remember the first half. We slept in Yoyogi Park in Harajuku area. It is the most beautiful urban park i've ever seen.

I don't know why my friend petted a homeless lady's cat, and i dont know which friend.. haha sorry

peace

I painted this for a girl named Pixie, for her birthday. I hope she likes it, i like it...

the grey teletubbie

You know in those old detective movies they talk in that cool "jazzy" way, almos(h)t with a purpos(h)ful lis(h)p, s(h)ee? Well start thinking in that way, and this tale will be 13.4% better...

The year was not important, almost as unimportant as the godforsaken name of the godforsaken place in the godforsaken town where this all occured. Like any humourous memory which you carry to your grave, clutched to your bosom in order to entertain you eternally once your soul passes the threshold betwixt life and death, this one always seems funnier (in a strange way) each time it is retrospectively analysed.

So there i was, minding my own business, tending to the guests of the quirky accommodation facility at which i worked. The weather outside was such that made every fiber of my being yearn to be out there, frolicking the streets and diffusing into the hustle bustle. But alas, my contract for some reason omitted the part where i am allowed to be aloof and run off sporadically out the door with no explanation whatsoever, leaving a queueueueue of alarmed guests wondering whether the crazed look in my eye was that slow insanity that comes with boredom, or the rapid and unsettling insanity that explodes within and causes a relatively harmless girl to commit hate crimes against segments she did not even know that she hated. But i digress (as i more often than not, do)...

I was chatting amiably with my co-worker when the strangest sight appeared before my very eyes. A lady, clad in black tracksuit pants, and a grey hooded jumper. Do not jump to conclusions and write me off as a tracksuit hater - hear me out. Now, the strange thing about her was that she had her grey hood pulled up over her head, and the drawstrings pulled tight into a bow, leaving only a small circle of her facial features exposed- mouth, nose, large glazed eyes, part of a chin, and also part of a forehead. Perhaps if it were subzero temperature outside and she was some sort of express post delivery woman (which would explain the wheelie grocery trolley in tow) delivering some sort of body heat generator so we didn't all freeze to death, then i would bat no eyelid at her bold fashion statement reminiscent of kenny from south park.

Anyhow it surned out she was a guest at the hotel, our conversation went a little like this:
*She walks up to the desk*
ME: Hi!
HER: Do you have an alarm clock?
ME: No sorry, we did have one to lend out, but it went missing.
*A long awkward silence in which she doesnt blink*
HER: I'll give you my passport
ME: Uhm, yeah... but we haven't actually got one to give OUT. Do you have a phone or something you could use?
HER: No. Checkout is tomorrow, I can't guarantee i will wake up...
ME: Oh, if you sleep in a little we won't bother you - we will understand
HER: But i might not wake up at all...
ME: (thinking: wtf) I'm sorry, but i can't help you. Perhaps if you buy a cheap one?
HER: No... (very calm and eloquent, her voice trails off as if she's looking to the horizon)

This broad stayed for a few weeks longer, and awkward encounters were had by all staff members. The fact that she wore the same outfit every single day (even reportedly sleeping in it) whilst remaining fastidiously clean and fragrant (in a good way) was a credit to her. She reminded me of a teletubbie because she couldnt get out of the clothes, and you could only see a small circle of her face. And so it was that the nickname stuck "the grey teletubbie".

Throughout the weeks we unravelled more of her enigmatic existence, by the hear-say of other guests (terrible i know) and even one guy who had coincedentally stayed with her before in another country. It turns out that in her wheelie trolley which is permanently attached to her side, she collects plastic bags which she finds around the streets... fascinating. It also turns out she gently shakes the other people in the dorm room in the middle of the night and whispers "shhh.... you're breathing heavily..." and then recedes into the darkness like a nightmare fading as you re-join the waking world.

I came to believe that she lacked hair under that hood, but one day i saw a strand poking out which put my crazy fantasies to bed. Anyhow, she had common OCD indicators, and also seemed to be heavily medicated at all times, having a conversation with her was like conversing with someone on the other side of the world, experiencing the lag between question and response. It also became apparent that she slept in large blocks of time - perhaps about 36 hours as one room-mate recorded. That must be teletubbie hibernation.. a few days at a time!

This lady also complained of high pitched buzzing in many of the rooms she stayed in.. all undetected by everybody else. She professed that it wouldn't be wise of us to put someone so highly strung into a room with a high-pitched whine. Another time she claimed "someone" had deposited excrements on her bed - under the blankets, and asked if we could flip the matress as it was rather disturbing for her... personally if 'someone' did that in my bed, i would demand a new room... not just a flip of the matress - she didnt even mention that it should be cleaned!! No smoke without fire, teletubbie... no smoke without fire. i know it was you...

I shall always remember the strange ways of the grey teletubbie, i shall file it away in the "work memories" section, and revisit it with a chuckle, and start to wonder where oh where she might have gone off to next? Perhaps she is off to clean the streets of another city, in another country... who knows? I bid her well on her quest to collect stray plastic bags and hibernate on ever continent... god speed you grey beacon of light. i will miss your antics...

a clam poem

"AVAST!" i cry, ye slubberin' ghouls
a clam that wishes to be a pig that DROOLS?
a soft spot i had for those closed up pods
of the sea, those moustachio gods

i don't eat clams, not since the day
that my lover clam snapped my heart away
he opened up, i was the special one
our love was good until he declared it done

i cried so long, i cried so fierce
but he had no eyes thus cried no tears
if i see that chump again i'll use a hammer
and anyway, i've still got my youth and glamour

what could he get? a seamonkey, a fish?
he's crazy to let me go, i'm a true blue aussie dish
or maybe it's that his love was too strong...
he got scared and closed up, had to say 'so long'

thats probably it, oh i hope we cross paths
we'll meet eyes at a club, or the public baths
he'll see what he's missed, and miss how i kissed
i'll draw him close, then give him my FIST

that little punk broke my heart with his slimy clammy shell
now i'll send him to the worst kind of hell
"Hell on Earth" -it opened last week
my new boyfriend's in charge, he's arty and chic

He's kinda dead, but was an artist and famous
he's showed me to love, and kill and be heinous
and the best part is we hate clams collectively
scars on our heart and cock - of course that's respectively

united we stand, united we victor
i'll crush his shell like a boa constrictor
he's no match for us, he better keep his wits
a lesson for you: all clams are SHIT

2009: A Jade Odyssey

Author
Dr. Jade Kelly
Born in Mexico during the 1980’s rebellion against horse farming Jade began life as a female. As life would have it she remained that way until today… the way that sentence rhymed was a true indication of just how poetic this girl was to become. Her love of horses drover her to Australia in 1992 and allow her to dig for gold. She found potatoes instead and became knows as Ms Smiths Chips in 1995 for her musical appearance in “Chips”! However, “Chips 2” in 2001 was not as widely acclaimed and she found herself floating face down in the river Murray.

She was fished out by a lanky boy and they were married on Christmas eve 2008 in Japan (because that’s where she thought the Olympics were… actually it was a secret mission to enjoy the Japanese culture again and convinced everyone to follow suit! Actually, most people couldn’t be bothered with China and preferred the porn vending machines of Japan). Their wedding was held on a boat that was pulled along by dolphins deliberately induced with a seizure drug called “splash a lot”. A romantic night with lots of noise drew Jade's attention to Rock’n’Roll, and seeing as Japan was the ultimate lock’n’loll place on the planet, Jade quickly became a member of an all girl rock group as a bass player.

Her rising stardom drew her to the world of Harry Potter, and her interest in books began to slowly slide down the wall as though it were a heroin addict taking their final hit of horse hammer. It was in the pits of this despair that she decided to cook a medium sized cake and name if after Lamington Bartholomew, an influential racist at the time who was convinced that if you paint darker skin white you would cure the disease, Lamingtons. Her recipe rose to fame and her interest in writing began to swell up insider her like a high school kids penis the morning before maths class with sexy teacher Miss Lolly.

*Biography courtesy of Sir Daragh Quinn PHD in History, University of Adelaide.

For when the toilet paper runs out...

The toilet roll is bare
no paper there remains
someone should repair
but noone takes the blame

what prick used the last bit?
surely it wasn't I
for i never learnt to shit
i secrete waste from my eye

in school i was the butt
of everybody's joke (pun)
until i became a slut
and started to drink and smoke

famed for party tricks
and interesting dances
at night i'd get my kicks
starting brief tear duct romances

each hole is a goal
is what i heard them say
and i'm climbing the social pole
so it is the only way

all the boys will love it
they're pin dicks anyway
all because i can't shit
in the normal way

my bum- devoid of function
makes a nifty vase
it's also good for grinding
polenta from some maize

a clam story...

i once read a story about a man who invested every last penny in the clam trade, and one day the stock market took a terrible turn so it somehow worked out that he OWED the clam industry 4.4 billion dollars. Anyway of course he was distraught. While he was on the edge of a bridge with a rope around his neck wearing a pair of fishnets and hot pink heels (he was also an avant garde death artist and decided his death would be a exhibition to celebrate his life's work) his beeper went off, but as he wasnt wearing clothes he had stored it up his bum. he checked the beeper to see what the last message of his life would be... it was from his stock advisor: "oops, i fucked up, the industry actually owes YOU money. haha, my bad. drinks later?" He was so excited that his massive boner attracted the attention of a pelican which flew up and nipped it, and then he fell screaming and consequently died by hanging.

The good news was that he became famous in death, and came back as a ghost but that wasn't cool or avant garde enough so he inhabited the body of a little boy, which freaked everyone out heaps. the poor little body couldnt cope with all the smoking and the drinking and the partying, and one night he choked on a clam during a kinky sexy night with what he thought was a woman. so he died a second time and the devil said that this time he wasnt allowed to come back. When the man asked why, the devil explained that when people get put back on Earth they enter into a reality show screened exclusively in hell, it's called "so ya think you can haunt?", and it's the main form of gambling in hell, apart from the flaming soul race tracks. Basically the devil releases 10 souls back onto earth (each season) telling them that they have a chance to complete their unfinished business once and for all - and everyone back in hell watches every gorey detail 24 hours a day. all the inhabitants of hell call up and vote for their favourites, and this particular man was the favourite for sure. The devil was so confident that he would continue with his haunting the longest without getting bored or giving up, so he bet his favourite sex slave gimp on it. Well when the little boy choked on the clam, that was it! the man was promptly transported back to hell right in the middle of the eviction ceremony, and the devil screamed, and created a shower of faeces and blood for 10 days without stopping. (that's only one of the perks of living in hell)

The good news with that is that the man somehow became the devil's artistic advisor and suggested he use human skin for curtains, but gather it at the bottom for country charm. the devil was a softy for country charm, and asked the guy if he wanted a promotion to 'sex slave' to which he replied "take the pressure down... i can feel it.. it's a rising like the storm" which in hell means 'no' at which the devil got a little uspet. The man explained that he still had the beeper lodged up his bum and that it just wouldn't work. luckily the devil was happy enough to keep him as artistic advisor and home decor expert. the fact that the beeper was still inside him, and still operational meant that he could still communicate with people on earth, because hell had a great network. anyway he started haunting people FROM hell, then got thrown back into the show as a wildcard! oh happy day. anyway he haunted this one paperboy that once threw a paper at his window, leaving the ink imprint of the headlines on his bedroom window. this was all ok, except the headline was "i'm videotaping the whole thing", and if he ever had any ladies in the room they would think it was a sick joke, and get all huffy and leave, vowing to never sleep with an artist again. so naturally his sexlife deminished... which is about the time he got into clams, therefore he held the paperboy directly responsible for his current situation. he haunted him like there's no tomorrow, and consequently WON the whole "haunt" competition.

Back in hell he had gained a following and started to turn the whole situation around, and eventually they made a proposal to overtake heaven. everyone up there was way too busy laying around in ecstasy (and on ecstasy) that they didnt read the proposal so all the hell people got really mad and waged war on them. it's a common misconception that people in hell are trapped souls. they can really do whatever they want, but they are all pussies and dont bother slaughtering anyone. but this was too much. they promptly went up to heaven and enslaved all the 'good souls' and consequently had two levels of hell. obviously the one below the ground was "hell classic" and the one upsatirs was marketed as "hell with a view" so all the perverts and stalkers went up there so they could be blissful in watching people all day long. and so it was that there became two hells. after this victory the man set plans in motion to overtake earth too. they were obviously going with the name "hell on earth" but they just were waiting for the appropriate time. biding.. biding....

Japan March 2008 - Best WTF moments

You will soon realise that I have a huge love for Japan. But there are still so many things that make me say WTF!? Here are just a small sampling of what i mean. To truly experience this for yourself you should go. I'm going again soon, come with me! Anyway, we came across this shop whilst peacefully strolling through Harajuku (Tokyo)... not sure what is being sold, but i suspect they could help me with my duck surplus...

Politically Correct Jazz Club in Asakusa, Tokyo. I haven't heard of that genre before...

Sauna and Capsule Sign. Thanks for the invitation, i think i might just join you. On second thought, you are kinda creepy, and the way your leg is crossed makes me think that you will ask me to sit on your lap and call you 'uncle blobby' whilst massaging your thighs. Not my scene.

A skirt I found in Harajuku... nothing really has to be said, exept why didn't i buy it? Just enjoy it from here.

Some "Volvic Juice" which immediatelty dunked my head into the toilet bowl. The sticker also explains that it is quite delicious... i'll bet you are... i'll bet you are

Public Notice about smoking etiquette, found in a train station somewher in Tokyo. Routes 1,2 and 3 all look pretty distressed by that path of neglect

Catty-man-face, which both terrifies and interests me immensely

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toothbrushing Po-em...

Talk of tooth-brushing brings a tear to my eye.
But I sit here perplexed, I just don't know why...
Could it be because I'm guilty of non-flossing?
Or perhaps because I'm scared of the dentist tossing
Into my mouth while I'm "under" his potions
And when I awake he dismisses my notions
"I applied a bleacher, that's what you can taste"
"Now get out of my office wench. Out, OUT post haste!"

I think it might be that my reputation precedes me
In Colgate cirlces I'm known as "the dead sea"
It refers to my saliva I think, but I'm not so sure
Saw it on my toothbrush's myspace...that bristly whore
For generations of brushes, I've been their sole plight
for I kill them slowly every morning and night
I brush it hard, back and forth, up and down,
and sometimes in little circles when I really go to town.

"chka chka chka" they scream as I go
or "whoka whoka whoka" if I put my mouth in an "o"
What a conundrum, their blood cleans my teeth!!!
Should I stop brushing to just keep the peace?
The hippie within tokes a peace-pipe and winks
But the murder valve grabs him and stabs his larynx
This is a shout-out to those who have perished,
Colgate, Oral-B, and Macleans... all were cherished

You served me well, kept my breath minty fresh
I'm sorry my hygiene and your life just don't mesh
I won't stop my terror, oh no, quite the contrary
I'll brush you to oblivion, til I gargle bloody mary
My mighty teeth will flatten your bristles,
my incisors fucking you up as though they were missiles
that pulsating murder valve is out of control
and humans are next once he's off parole...