Just Another Clumsy Romantic

Island hopping

2008-07-11T03:18:00.000-07:00

As the wind blows so I go. And the wind has blown me East onto yet another island in the Pacific Ocean. After five short months as a Sydneysider, I now find myself living in Queenstown, ‘the adrenaline capital of the world’. Having lived in the ‘music capital of the world’ I’m used to such hyperbole, and like Austin, Queenstown certainly lives up to its billing. But first a few more words about my time in Sydney.

I haven’t really blogged much since I moved to the Southern Hemisphere, for a long time I thought not much was happening, but in retrospect I guess a lot of things did. Tristan and I finally combined to form AMO and DJ’d to living breathing people for the first time. It was awesome. For a while I was working for this action sports magazine called Neutraliser, but that was just a weird situation all-round as it was based in this guys house and he was, eccentric to say the least. I got to know Sydney vaguely well, made some amazing friends, and then got a job with the Sydney Film Festival – and that at the very least deserves its own paragraph.

The Sydney Film Festival was one of the hardest, and most rewarding, projects I’ve ever been involved with. At the eleventh hour my old school friend Carmel rang me and asked if I would be willing to step into the Website Coordinator role. It was three weeks from the festival’s start and there was a lot of stuff that needed to be done with the site. Add to this that in my two weeks the website was the victim of two or three malicious hacks. It was a frantic time and the hours I worked were pretty crazy. My housemates Tristan and Amanda must have thought they were living with a ghost I was home so little. Of course once the festival started things got even crazier. Hosting 13 red carpets in 12 days is no mean feat and I am totally in awe of all the people who were working around me; incredible, talented and dedicated individuals, without whom this 19 day cinematic event simply would not be possible.

Supporting me through this whole period was my little partner-in-crime, Alex. A week or so before Carmel called me up, Alex had already asked me if I would be interested in hosting the official SFF podcasts with her. The Web Coordinator job made this a little trickier, but I so wanted that fresh experience. Alex was the Moving Image Coordinator for the festival as well as podcast producer/director/camerawoman/editor – or Podcast Queen as she is affectionately known in some circles. We worked together and supported each other pretty much day and night for the entire duration of the festival and were rarely apart, so much so it was kinda weird for me not being around her once it was all over. Between up we made 9 podcasts in 19 days – no small feat. Every time I felt down and like I wasn’t doing very well, Alex picked me up off the ground and reassured me I was. I still think she was lying a little bit (I know I can do better!), but her mastery in the editing suite always made me look loads better.

I didn’t get to see many films, but I guess my experience of the festival was different and special in other ways. The people I worked with, the random running in-jokes, the voice, the drama, the meetings (on and off-line), the subscribers and the parties – which there were frankly not enough of. Then again, there’s always next year.

And that was Sydney for me, outside of the festival I became a regular at Kino and became friends with The Festivalists and their possie. I was cared for and looked after by two of my closest friends in Tristan and Amanda whom I’m deeply indebted to. And I’ll miss Stanmore, my home for five too-short months. There will be a comeback in October, but in the meantime…

I find myself in on the South Island of New Zealand, living in Queenstown with my old friend Sam (Lake Tahoe blogs) and working as a lifty on The Remarkable Mountains. How the heck did that happen who may well ask?

So before the Sydney Film Festival Sam gave me a shout and asked if I would be interested in moving out to NZ for a season to get good at snowboarding, work as a lifty, and fill the spare room he had (“we’ve got a spare room and I reckon you’re just the man to fill it”). I wasn’t sure at first, I was just starting to settle into Sydney life, was making friends and all that good stuff, but when all was said and done I was going to get to the end of my SFF contract and be unemployed again and looking for somewhere to live. Not a good combination. So timing-wise it was just right I guess. It also meant that if I got back to Australia in October I could go do my three months agricultural work to extend my Working Holiday VISA in time to still cycle around Tasmania in January (more on that at a much later date). So plane ticket was booked, NZ VISA applied for – all I needed was for Sam to hook me up with a job.

Goodbyes were said at a carnage-fuelled ‘see you later’ party (how many of these will I have in my life – they seem more regular than birthdays) in which Joel came down from Newcastle to see me off, got me hideously pissed on way to meet Tristan, Amanda, Phil and Mark. The next day I flew to Christchurch where I promptly realised I didn’t have nearly enough clothes for the NZ winter, c’est la vie. At Christchurch airport I hung out from 11.30pm thought to 7.30am waiting for the bus to Queenstown, when it finally came I realised I was back on the backpacker circuit for the eight hour ride south through some of the most spectacular countryside you could hope for, before finally transplanting me in my new abode.

Now there’s not much in Queenstown town, it’s pretty much entirely populated by bars, youth hostels, sports shops and Internet cafes – oh and the obligatory Mcdonald’s (and now a McCafe). But it sits right on top of the beautiful Lake Wakatipu and is surrounded by mountains, which are currently all covered in snow. Since being here I have met up with my old friend from DVD Review days James Beech who asked me to join him for a boat ride aboard the Earnslaw – an old steamboat that have been sailing on Wakatipu for 92 years. It was great to see Beechy so randomly a few thousand miles from home.

Obviously the highlight was getting up The Remarkables for my first day snowboarding since South Lake Tahoe back in April of 2007. It really didn’t take me long to pick it up again, although my switch riding ability is now practically non-existent. Before the end of the day I was riding through the park more confidently than ever before (not having a cracked rib might help I suspect). Not that I was hitting anything other than the butterbox, but to be honest I’m so much more comfortable with the speed and the jumps now that the rails will follow soon.

During that first day riding (the day after a huge dump in Queenstown) Sam told me that his boss Rutters wanted me to meet him at his office at 3pm for an interview. The interview pretty much consisted of “you come highly recommended and that pretty much counts for everything here. So do you mind shovelling snow and can you start tomorrow.” Giving both my answers in the positive that was that. So now I shovel snow, direct traffic and pick people up off the floor for a living. Occasionally I get to ride during the day, which is nice, but as I have pretty much the best office view imaginable I’m a happy camper.

I’ll post more about the day-to-day goings on at work as I get more into it. I think this post is easily long enough for now. I'll upload some pictures tomorrow night...

Out of the electro closet

2008-05-12T08:39:00.000-07:00

Tristan and myself have formed a DJ unit under the name of AMO. On Saturday night along with Joel (SSDH) we are playing a party in Newcastle, NSW. Hopefully we won't suck...

Exciting news

2008-05-11T20:37:00.000-07:00

I've posted this over at Dark Habits, but I'm taking over as the website coordinator for the Sydney Film Festival until the end of the festival. Keep an eye out for goings on, I'm going to be hosting a podcast too, it's all very exciting!

Cadbury's Creme Eggs return

2008-03-03T18:22:00.000-08:00

You may or may not remember some time ago I posted a video of BJ Novak on Conan O'Brien expose of the shrinking size of Cadbury's Creme Eggs (sadly it's no longer available on Youtube). Well, Emily at 'now, tastes more like real life', just posted this video of the new Creme Eggs' advertising campaign in the states. I'm not sure if it's the same as in the UK, but you have to laugh at these clips.

If you wanna read more, click here.

But if you'd rather watch more Cadbury's Creme Egg commercials, click .

Window poetry

2008-03-02T03:05:00.000-08:00

Wandering aimlessly today I saw this in the window of an abandoned shop on Parramatta Road and thought I'd share.

I've been taking lots of pictures since I got here but I can't transfer images from my camera to my computer at the moment. The picture above I took with my phone.

Not too much news this end, still job hunting for something full time, though i have found a couple of days a week work with a alternative sports magazine called Neutraliser. Oh, and anyone reading this, I also have a new blog. It's film centric and can be found here DARK HABITS.

The magazine industry here in Australia is strange. The shelves are filled with imported magazines, and some of the bigger mags published here reproduce material from their American and British sister mags. That said, many of the jobs that are coming up are online positions, hence why I've started building my web presence with the new blog, which contains a portfolio of much of my past work. Course all that said, I just did a little UK job search and there's nothing going there at all.

I'm a little sad that I'm not in the states at this interesting time in the country's history, but I urge everyone to follow closely the not only what the candidates have to say, but the way in which the choice is dividing the country and the general publics' response to the candidates. Barack Obama is obviously of particular interest, not because of what he represents in his rhetoric, or the extent to which he is creating such mixed reactions, but also because of how much he reminds me of a certain left of centre, populist British politician who inspired Kennedy-esque comparisons and promised new beginnings.

Hope everyone is well, send news...

What do you want?

2008-02-20T20:54:00.000-08:00

And inspired remix found on youtube:

New beginnings, old stories

2008-02-07T20:15:00.000-08:00

'Life isn't easy', I was reminded by someone close to me this week. True, not something I wasn't aware of, but thanks all the same. In the same breath though, I reminded myself that while it may not be easy, it sure is a lot of fun.

And so here I find myself, half way around the world in yet another country – still drinking in Irish pubs. Some things don't change wherever you find yourself. Today is the start of my third week as a resident of Sydney, Australia. Life is back in the starting blocks, top priority? Find a job (yesterday wouldn't be soon enough right now). There are others matters of pressing urgency but I won't bore you on the details.

I've moved in with my best friend Tristan and his wonderful girlfriend Amanda. Indeed, 'moved in' might be a kind way of describing the fact that these two great friends have practically adopted me and saved me from the streets. I'm down to emergency funds. Sadly however, I spent these emergency funds in a moment of madness and confusion at Heathrow 16 days ago. Two-hundred and fifty pounds excess baggage on my credit card which was nothing sort of a catastrophe. At least things can only get better from there...

My plans to surprise Marilyn and Joel worked a treat. It was nearly a year to the day that I said goodbye to Maz as she returned to Oz in 2007 and Joel I hadn't seen since his hurricane visitation to Austin. Marilyn screamed, threw her phone, then cried. We hugged and it felt great. Joel on the other hand asked: "What are you doing here?" In true Team Unity-style we partied almost immediately while I fought the jetlag as we journeyed through the music and mayhem of Big Day Out Sydney. LCD Soundsystem, Arcade Fire, Battles and Spoon provided the soundtrack to my arrival in Australia. Phil and Mark became my newest Aussies friends. Good times were had.

[for everyone who's worried about how pale I am in the next picture, my face is covered in faded white zinc. I'm Scottish and I gotta protect that fair skin of mine. I'm not ill.]

I survived to the next day to enjoy the sunshine and celebrate my second Australia Day with the gang. We spent the day at The Domain park at the Triple J Hottest 100, a countdown of, yes, the top 100 tracks of the passed year. The top tune was so forgettable I couldn't tell you what it was. But it was good to see the Kaiser Chiefs make the 13th spot. A quick wiki search tells me Muse were number one. Dull.

It was great fun nonetheless and the sun beat good vibrations all day long. Sadly the same can't be said since then as we've endured storm after storm here on the coast of New South Wales. The circumstance that hasn't helped the fact Tristan and I have been walking over a mile to get to Kelly's pub to use its free wifi. I am something of a regular now and the bar lady who I met on my first day here in Sydney is always really sweet to me.

The Superbowl happened and the New York Giants surprised everyone, except a seemingly deluded Chris Shea. What an amazing game it was. I can't say which I wanted more though, for the Patriots perfect season to be wrecked or for Brady to destroy Manning and co. What can you say? The Giants were amazing and deserved to win. The biggest sadness of the day was that I didn't get to share it with my American fans back in Austin. I have certainly been missing that Texan oddity and all my friends who reside there. I'm trying not to be that guy who moves to a new town and bangs on constantly about how great the other place he lived is. I'm trying hard, but I miss Austin so much, it feels like a part of me is absent. It is an absence I have been dealing with by perfecting my own pica de gallo to accompany the many tacos I've been making recently. Oh Rafa, where are you when I need my $1.50 barbacoa on flour?

You will have noticed that the blog has undergone some changes. I'm not sure I'm happy with the colours yet, so they may yet change again, but my eyes were starting to bleed from staring at them. Oh, and I decided it was time to put the Chautuaqua to bed and adopt my moniker as the blog's name. Anyone who is linking, could you change it on your page? thanks guys. Anyone who I haven't linked to could you let me know your address please? As soon as I figure out a title, I will be launching my film blog too, so keep an eye out for it.

Promise to post again soon. And ps. don't ever let anyone discourage you by telling you that life isn't easy. Stay strong and true to yourself. Good things will come with faith in your capabilities and confidence in the future.

Coming soon: or how I learned to stop worrying and say goodbye to Austin

2008-01-22T07:17:00.000-08:00

New blog. Keep your eyes peeled. I doubt anyone will see this just now, but new year, new name, new adventure...

UPDATE:
Seen as how I couldn't say before I was moving to Australia, I'm now posting the short goodbye draft I wrote to Austin.

To say that my emotions right now are mixed wouldn’t come close to doing justice to where I find myself. Life is as tough as it has ever been, yet in equal measure as exciting. Where am I going? What is this dream I am chasing? It remains a mystery to me. But the fact that I’m pursuing it is the most important thing. Life is only tough because along this journey I’ve been blessed with many people who I would call soul mates. Each of whom have enriched me in different ways and beyond measure, yet each individual has also stolen a piece of my heart as the time comes to say goodbye.

I will miss second Sunday's at the Sock Hop and after parties in swimming pools and garages. I will miss breakfast tacos and free refills. Hook em Horns and Austin at night from Congress bridge; blue lasers illuminating the skyline. Ladybirds and Lone Stars. Hippy golf, tree love, one for the road and howdy strangers. Ace in the hole? Not this year; but sunset on 15 every time. Margaritas taste great any time of the day, but especially with friends. Idiots all around; creativity burning. Romosexuals and keeping Austin beard. Love, always much love. And the Alamo. Remember the Alamo.

Passive aggressive racism

2007-11-19T09:08:00.000-08:00

Fantastically written piece in the Guardian today by Ronan Bennet about Islamaphobia, the author Martin Amis and our own responsibility for turning a blind eye to the kind of racism that would be considered unacceptable and abhorrent in any other context. Please do read.

"What do you make of the following statement: "Asians are gaining on us demographically at a huge rate. A quarter of humanity now and by 2025 they'll be a third. Italy's down to 1.1 child per woman. We're just going to be outnumbered." While we're at it, what do you think of this, incidentally from the same speaker: "The Black community will have to suffer until it gets its house in order." Or this, the same speaker again: "I just don't hear from moderate Judaism, do you?" And (yes, same speaker): "Strip-searching Irish people. Discriminatory stuff, until it hurts the whole Irish community and they start getting tough with their children."

Read the rest HERE

For my American friends...

2007-11-15T14:25:00.001-08:00

Sorry, but I had to post this one:

Something tells me it probably has something to do with guys like this:

Yahoo! rebuke

2007-11-14T14:29:00.000-08:00

I am somewhat heartened today to hear that Yahoo! has finally been reprimanded by Congress for revealing the names of journalists to the Chinese government. For myself as a journalist this was a particular disgusting affair and assault on the freedom of the press that I consider abhorrent and despicable.

This is how the Tom Lantos of the House Foreign Affairs committee described Yahoo!'s behaviour:

"While technologically and financially you [Yahoo!] are giants, morally you are pygmies"

Sadly Yahoo!'s apology for its actions from founder Jerry Yang is not going to get the two journalists, Shi Tao and Wang Xiaoning, out of jail, where they have been sentenced for the next 10 years.

Read more about the case HERE and HERE.

Please boycott Yahoo! wherever you can and support freedom of speach.
Scott

The Big Easy

2007-10-25T12:40:00.000-07:00

I'm going to New Orleans for the Voodoo music festival and to hang out in New Orleans. I have no money, but for sure I'll have a good time.

UPDATE: Here is the picture story of my trip to New Orleans. What I will say is that while I certainly had more than my fair share of fun and have gained my 'Bourbon Street story', New Orleans was a sad place for me. So beautiful but so ugly in the exploitation and the ignorance of the society and culture in which we live and consume. At its core, there is hope in creativity, art, youth and age. Plus I got to see the Mississippi for the first time in my life. It was glorious.

Jus†ice destroyed my mind

2007-10-11T14:19:00.000-07:00

Many have tried, but I can't bring myself to. Having seen Justice in festival venues thrice I can say with certainty that it is nothing compared to seeing them live in a club. I spent an untold amount of timeless beats immersed in a cacophony of sound and a deluge of noise. The experience was so intense I'm not even sure how much of it I remember - though this is no doubt partly to blame on the road soda (thanks to Justin for this new phrase). For however long the set was, an hour and half perhaps, I was mesmerised by Justice. I don't think I've ever seen a mosh pit at an electro gig. Nor have I ever seen crowd surfers in an electro club, so many crowd surfers. The whole thing was nuts. I may not remember it all, but I will never forget it.

These are a couple of my videos. D.A.N.C.E.:

The encore, Soulwax's NY Lipps:

The city of angels

2007-10-10T18:27:00.000-07:00

I gotta keep this short as there is much to do and if I leave posting any longer it might not happen. So, the rest of my stay in Los Angeles was amazing. After two nights with the lovely Whitney, I was picked up by Greg and taken to his place in Santa Monica. I met Greg on my trip to San Francisco back in July. I was on the BART train on my way to see Daft Punk in Berkeley and was sure the lads across from me were going to. As is my style we got to talking and I ended up spending the rest of the weekend living it up with Greg, Justin, Dan and their friends. They truly made it a trip to remember. To see the pictures from my trip to San Francisco go HERE.

Right, well, as things turned out Greg lives in a rather nice house. In fact let me be more accurate. Greg lives in possibly the most incredible house I've ever been in. A four floor beach front property in Santa Monica. Views of the sea every morning, the sunset every night. It's simply incredible. Two minutes stroll to the Pacific Ocean everyday. You just can't go wrong. Anyway, I've landed on my feet like crazy and Greg is such a sweet host. The place actually belongs to his family and Greg lives there while he plugs away at his acting career. Greg grew up in Santa Monica his entire life so is the perfect host as he demonstrated the next day.

I knew LA was huge but nothing could really quite prepare me for the view of the city Greg shared with me after driving us up to the Santa Monica mountains (they may be hills, I'm not sure). The view over Hollywood, Santa Monica, downtown LA, Beverley Hills is astounding. Seeing the sea front stretch on and on and on was quite something. After climbing down the hill Greg and I went driving all over town. Sunset Boulevard, Mulholland Drive, Hollywood's walk of fame, Bill Cosby's house, Celebrity Scientology Castle. It was awesome. I was totally in awe. I'm not even sure why really though. I guess because it was truly a alien world to me. Streets lined with Palm Tress, millionaires whizzing past me at every intersection. I loved the whole entire bizarreness of it all.

Oh, and I saw the Jim Henson Company, which made me particularly happy. We couldn't find a good place for photo opp of the Hollywood sign, but I did see it. I'll save the stealing a letter plan for another time. It's not going anywhere just yet.

After this there was more hanging out in LA, checking out the town etc before I finally got to see Thea who got back into town on Monday. It was awesome to see her and she was equally blown away by Greg's place by the way. Anyways, Thea took me surfing for the first time. I loved it. I wanna surf more. Loads more. It kinda completes my trilogy of board sports (I've always seen myself as a completist). And yes, I caught at least one wave and got to stand up. I was rather proud of myself. That said my rib cage is still hurting. Don't know when that is ever going to heal up since Tahoe to be honest.

And now I am back in San Francisco with Justin and Dan, staying with Dan and his housemate Emily. Seven/eight hours on the Megabus turned out to be not nearly as painful as expected. $35 wasn't too bad either, course if I'd booked earlier it would have been much cheaper (possibly a dollar). But either way, I am here, got very excited traveling across the Bay Bridge into a rainy San Fran. Tonight is Justice. It's going to be a barnstormer.

By the way, I need a job when I get back to Austin. Cash in hand. Keep your eyes peeled folks.

Aaaah, Venice

2007-10-05T10:33:00.000-07:00

It felt weird coming back to California again. This is my third visit to the Golden State since I came to the US back in March. San Francisco (the trip I failed miserably to blog on) left a huge impression on me and I was keen to make a return visit. But the main reason for coming this time was the opportunity to see my friend Thea in Santa Monica and knock LA off my list of places to go. Knowing that Justice were playing in San Francisco also meant a short (7 hour) bus ride north and I could do the things I didn't get to do before (Alcatraz) and see the lads I met at the Daft Punk gig who also effectively adopted me for remainder to my time in San Fran.

Course, the best laid schemes usually gang aft agley, and so it was that Thea found out one week before my arrival that she wasn't going to be LA at all. Hmmm, hence a lot of head scratching and pondering what to do. Luckily Chris Shea was able to put me in touch with a friend from college who was willing to put me up my first nights in town. From tonight I should be staying with Greg, who I met at the Daft Punk gig, in Santa Monica for a couple of nights. It's all a bit slap and dash now, but should be a lot of fun.

You need a car to be in Los Angeles so the proverbial warnings go and it is not a word to a lie. This place is huge and its vastness is only overpowered by the sheer number of cars that appear to be on the road. I, however, am a public transport kinda guy and have so far found the number 333 bus just grand at transporting me to and from Venice Beach, which is a mere 10 minutes down the road from my host Whitney's apartment. The climate in this part of California is incredible. LA enjoys something like 325 days of sunshine a year. The daytime is warm, often with a gentle breeze rolling in off the Pacific Ocean, while the evenings are cool. It's a far cry from the constant sweatiness of Texas.

Having immediately gone down to the famous after dropping my things off at Whitney's I totally forget my second thoughts about coming to LA and allow myself to wonder at the weirdness that I've found myself immersed once again. Ocean Front Walk is filled with the usual seafront tourist stalls you expect by any popular stretch of beach. But Venice has much more than this. As part of the area that makes up the infamous Dogtown, it is in many ways the spiritual home of skateboarding. The basketball courts (as featured in White Men Can't Jump) are one of the most famous streetball courts in the world. Then there's Muscle Beach, which is just downright odd.

Similarly to what I experienced in San Francisco at Golden Gate Park, Venice Beach is also odd in the blend of locals, tourists and homeless people. The locals themselves make up one of the oddest blend of people in themselves. Harry Perry is one such character, famous basically for roller-skating on the beach front in a turban whilst playing electric guitar. Another roller-blading oddity I saw yesterday was some muscle bound California dude with the tiniest and most well-groomed dog running alongside him. Ok, not so weird perhaps, until you see him swinging his dog around in the air before catching it perfectly standing in the palm of his hand all the while still weaving amongst the tourists on the boardwalk. Don't worry, the dog lead was a body one, not a neck one.

I feel like I'm digressing here. Let me give you a couple of my early impressions of this part of LA. Beach life clearly lends itself to the good life. I don't think I've ever seen so many super fit people in my life - between surfers, the bodybuilders, the joggers, the yogateers, the skaters and the all rest. My first day here I watched the sunset over the Pacific, it was gorgeous. But while I sat there watching with the hordes of sun-kissed spiritually inclined Californians, I wondered if the whole body image thing was actually in fact part of something a little deeper. Something closer to achieving physical atonement with the concept of healthy body healthy mind. I've only just got here so it's hard to say. What I can say is that I'm now desperately keen to learn how to surf and if I leave here without having ridden at least one wave I'll be extremely disappointed with myself.

Tales of the city: Pt1

2007-08-11T18:23:00.000-07:00

I had been going somewhat stir crazy in the weeks leading up to my trip to San Francisco. I mean, Austin isn't the biggest town on the map and even though there is so much to do here, my(car-less)self can get stuck in the mud easily. Days are wasted sitting cruising the internet, reading, watching movies and planning next big adventures when there is a whole world of now to be living in. Course, I had a hope, a suspicion, a will for things to take a turn for the active upon my trip to San Francisco that was to incorporate seeing Maximo Park, Haight and Ashbury, the Golden Gate Bridge, Daft Punk and, of course, my golden birthday...

UPDATE:

Here are the pictures from my first visit to San Francisco. I will allow them to tell the story of how I met Justin, Dan and Greg on my way to Daft Punk; the birthday weekend I then spent with them; my first baseball game; crossing the Golden Gate Bridge at 5am; the kids I met on the other side and other adventures in the city that stole my heart...

The Wolf

2007-07-08T17:38:00.000-07:00

Apparently I am not a reliable blogger, but then the past month has been quite grim here in Texas. The skies opened in June and thus spring showers became a summer storms. I have rarely experienced such rain in my entire life. Texas hasn't since 1924, the wettest June since records began, and even then there was only half an inch more rain. As a result an outrageous amount of my time has been spent stuck indoors and stuck in the mud. Yes, I allowed that unique British miserablism to overcome - even though I was somewhat enjoying the rain and the pensive thoughtfulness mood it lured me into for so long. As the humidity has risen, and sunlight interchanged with lightning, my moods have shifted more frenetically than an ADHD suffer on speed.

But it hasn't all been soulful starring out the window. I got to see Wolfmother at Stubbs BarBQ, which was a great fun. In fact, now that I come to think about it, it was the Friday most my friends were all up to their pert nipples in mud at the cold and even wetter Glastonbury (seems most thought the boundaries between Heaven and Hell had truly been blurred). So it was some much needed rock to take my mind away from where I wasn't. Travis, Chris and Mike were all there to thrash their air guitars, Chris in particular to thrash his ever expanding Puerto-fro (that's his Puerto Rico fro, not Pervert fro - just incase there's any confusion). Travis and I battled our way through two mosh pits to get to the front, which was pretty awesome and I couldn't resist crowd surfing out, albeit only 5ft. Afterwards it was the usual carnage, I bumped into my friends Nick and his girlfriend Bobby, cruised around a couple of bars doing shots and mixers with the adrenaline of the gig keeping me standing. Travis and I met back up to get a cab home, which I may or may not have been obnoxious to the driver before declaring that he'd ruined my cab ride and that I'd walk the rest of the way. Of course that only occurred after I'd tried to make best friends with the guy. Oh, and I came home with a walkie talkie, which I believe was procured at the bar Mohawk.

Then there was disc golf at Pease Park... in the rain. Pease Park is located in the centre of Austin, not far from downtown and enjoys the added feature of a river running through it (to steal a movie title), which on this occasion was flowing at around 4 feet in depth and with a fury. Needless to say I did go arse over tits trying to cross it for the fourth time.

Naturally a month of rain has also meant a host of movie watching, at home and at the cinema. There was Ratatouille, which proved a real hit. As funny and as touching as most all the Pixar films before it, once you could allow yourself to overcome the inherent creepiness of seeing rats run around a kitchen - no matter how clean they are. Live Free Die Hard finally landed, albeit after jumping from an F35 fighter jet in decidedly ridiculous fashion. Still, it was passable, Bruce brought his best John McClane-isms to the screen, kicked copious amounts of ass - although the circus act henchman using parkour is getting really tired now, though not as bad as Harry Osborn (James Franco) flying on a fucking snowboard in the tragically bad Spiderman 3.

Then there was a little documentary called Lost In Woonsocket.
It was a film that I missed at SXSW despite the fact I'd met and made friends with much several of the people involved with the film (Malcolm, Thea, Ashley, John). Chris Tilly had caught it and had lots of good things to say about the film, so I was chuffed to pieces when Thea contacted me to tell me they were all coming back to Austin with more of the team for another screening at the Alamo Drafthouse. I promised to be there and was true to my word. By the end of the film I can't fully contextualise quite how I felt, but I know I'd been touched quite deeply. Lost In Woonsocket is a film not just about random acts of kindness - in this case taking one homeless, alcoholic man off the street and getting them into rehab. Rather it is a film about the consequences of an act of kindness - how the smallest of gestures can lead to the greatest of successes, often in the most unexpected of corners. It is about human spirit, its vitality and its potential to change, grow, and ultimately overcome. For me it was also a timely reminder of my good fortune, my family and my friends. That I'm not now, nor will I ever be, alone in this big adventure called life. It also reminded me that behind every face there is a story, and quite often those stories are well worth listening to.

On a sad note, however, this was to be my penultimate visit to the Alamo Drafthouse downtown. The 10-year old Austin landmark is moving to a new home on the highly commercial and townie-centric 6th Street. I hope it retains its old magic at the new location (what used to be Austin Ritz theatre years ago). The Alamo is by far the best cinema I have ever been to. These people know and love film like few proprietors of cinema screens anywhere in the world. The theatre is set up like this: each row of seats has its own bench in front, and every other seat has a menu. Once inside, you take your seat, pick what food or drinks take your fancy for the evening, write them down on a piece of paper, which then sticks up in a bar on the bench. A waiter comes by, picks up your order and 15 minutes later delivers it right to your seat. My favourite has been the Smokey Bacon and the Bandit BLT. Delicious. Anyway, the theatre always plays old cartoons and commercials (Fred Flintstone smokes Winstones don't you know). It also has its own unique warning for anyone who uses their phones in the cinema, I can't do it justice, suffice to say it involves zombies and and lots of blood.

So anyway, the Drafthouse is know for its screenings of lots of older films, obscure films, and outright classics (I'm still not doing this place justice). And so on the Drafthouse's penultimate night, and my last one there, I got myself a ticket for the 'thank you for smoking' screening of Breathless. Joined by a couple of friends I made my way there for some heavily nicotine infused movie-watching and even wrote a little summary for a local website, Slackerwood. Feel free to check it out, though it is far from one of my better written pieces.

In other news I went to Houston, but not to NASA, which was hugely disappointing. Did get to see Travis' dad (Larry) again, who is just one of the loveliest people you could hope to meet. Larry took myself, Travis and Chris out for dinner on our last night there and all I can tell you was I had no right being in this joint, but could certainly get used to it. Fine wine and serious fine cuisine. Steak all the way for me - in typical fashion though ordering white wine with red meat (see what I mean by not belonging). Also I got myself a ticket to see the San Francisco Giants play the Atlanta Braves (that's baseball folks) while I am in the Bay area. I'm so excited about this trip now it's ridiculous. Oh, and my birthday is in a mere matter of 2 and half weeks while I'm there. Can't wait for Daft Punk.

Oh, and then there was my discovery of Ann Coulter: the insane, pathological fascist-cum-political pundit. Words cannot do justice to how much I despise this woman. She is a horror to behold. I would direct you to one of the many youtube videos I've watched of her recently, but I just can't do that to you - if you want to find out more you can look her up yourself as I will play no part. However, if I do finally perfect the Nobhead Bomb I've been working on all these years, I believe she could well be the strongest candidate yet to be ground zero.

With once again promises to try to post more, I bid thee all adieu - oh, and the fact that I'm also considering potentially watching The Sound Of Music. Something that will have several ex-girlfriends shouting expletives in shock and disbelief should they happen to read this.

Lords of the dance

2007-06-14T03:20:00.000-07:00

No sooner was I elated to rediscover some childhood heroes this morning then they were tragically taken away from me again. The London Boys - Edem Ephraim and Dennis Fuller - had their short-lived fame back in 1989 with three hit singles, 'London Nights' and 'Requiem' which both went to no. 2 in the UK singles chart, and 'Harlem Desire' which reached no. 17. All these tracks came from the brilliantly titled The Twelve Commandments of Dance...

Why so tragic? Well it would seem Edem and Dennis died in a car crash in Austria back in 1996 and the music world was robbed forever of their hopelessly upbeat dance tunes and moves that would put Kid and Play to shame. Seriously I don't think I've ever seen anyone have more fun performing than these guys either, camping it up like you only could in the 80s - just check out those midriff bearing t-shirts, classic.

I now know where I stole all my dance floor moves from (honestly, anyone who has seen me will testify) and my taste for baggy pants. I'm gutted anyway. It's so strange too because stumbling across them has rekindled so many memories, I know I had the album and I remember seeing them being interviewed all over the shop, showing off their dance moves. I can almost taste that time in my life so strong is the sensation.

If you want to read more about them do it here.

Otherwise, enjoy a couple of brilliant videos, and for those who remember enjoy the memories. Rest in peace London Boys.

All my friends

2007-06-13T12:25:00.000-07:00

A lot has happened since I last posted ramblings about my adventures in the old US of A. I went ‘tubbing’ for the first time; did my first ‘beer bong’ then repeated the feat twice for good measure; fell in love, although with the author Jim Dodge before anyone gets too excited; got into a few arguments; went to many parties; met lots of interesting new people; I celebrated Chris Shea’s 29th birthday; became a San Antonio Spurs follower albeit begrudgingly; and I saw a Blue Moon for the first time. And while some of these experiences have simply been that, moments chalked up in a life of rapidly neglected memories, others have profoundly affected me, which in any person’s being is a healthy thing.

It certainly seems strange to acknowledge it, but 100 days have now passed me by since my tearful departure from Heathrow, leaving the ever reserved and endlessly sincere Graham awkwardly standing with a smile that said everything and more than he needed to. It reminded me of the powerful hold friendship can have over you if you allow it to. That way in which love only reaches its peak when you jump from the highest point imaginable and release yourself to the endless freefall, life rushing past your senses leaving only the slipstream of your dreams behind you. The bonds of true friendship are no less strong.

More time than I expected has been given over to the people I left behind, far and wide, since beginning this little North American adventure. But what has become apparent on this journey is the universality of friends as family. It is all-pervasive, like a melody that echoes sweetly and angrily in a great hall. And like any family, it is, at times, highly dysfunctional. For me this though is a true test of friendship, its ability to function even when something is rotten, when things are messy and when tension permeates. What is important though is the acknowledgment that we are here for one another no matter. I know that what I am writing is somewhat saccharine, but I like to think of this as one of my more endearing qualities. A certain naivety I have always been a subject of.

Nevertheless, I believe it is this that has afforded me the opportunity to see something of the bigger picture in a life fraught with challenges. While mine may not be one of great personal difficulty, the need to find meaning in being is a desire we can all relate to. To this end I have tried to understand the qualities that define different peoples collectively and individually. Most recently that quest, if you will, has led me to explore this in relation to what it means to be an ‘Austinite’ as much as it does to understanding what makes me human. It is simply a microcosm of a bigger picture. How is it that we live together and get along in this ever-shrinking space? The adaptations we make. The sacrifices and the adjustments.

I have noticed certain of my own personality traits have become more extreme of late as I have attempted to forge a space for my own character whilst treading the water of this new pond with its current of personalities, some stronger than others, all the while trying hard not to lose connection to the core of who I am whilst also avoiding intruding on other’s delineated spheres of being. After all, we all deserve a space to be ourselves.

[I started my apprenticeship at KOOP radio station in Austin this past Sunday on The Great White North hosted by Doug the Canuck - a radio show devoted to Canadian independent music. Tune in guys, 19.00 on Sunday nights central time (BST -6.00)]

The great Cadbury's Cream Egg Conspiracy

2007-05-17T18:19:00.000-07:00

I knew it. I thought it was just me. Evidence that Cadbury's Cream Eggs HAVE got smaller The people behind this are probably the same bastards that took Smarties out of circular tubes and made Opal Fruits vanish off the face of the Earth. What else are Cadbury's involved in? Could they be responsible for all my odd socks too...

The battle of Coachella

2007-05-13T12:47:00.000-07:00

Firstly, sorry this has taken a while to get up but I've been so busy since getting back from Coachella and snowboarding. Myself, Chris and Travis moved into a new house, which is brilliant (I have a bed now and everything, sweet) and I have another feature to write for Beyond magazine. This time on fake Moon landings, which I spend more than a week trawling conspiracy websites for and rambling to anyone who will listen about cover-ups. But here is the story of my departure from Tahoe, the journey to Coachella, music and frivolity:

The time comes for Sam and I to leave Lake Tahoe. I think both of us are glad to be back on the road. For me it was such an experience going snowboarding and the fulfillment of a long-standing promise with Sam. Reconnecting with my old Utah State partner in crime was awesome. Like me, I hope, Sam's one of those people you pretty much pick up right from where you left off, and while it's a buzz to hang out with him, it is also a welcome familiarity during a time of great changes in my life.

We hire a car for the trip, organised at the morning before we leave of course. Departures are always bittersweet experiences I believe. I'm sad to say goodbye to Stan and Renick, who have been real characters to have met and a total pleasure. But new adventures await. Sam and I plan to stop by Sequoia National Park on our way South through California. We travel through some of the most amazing landscapes imaginable, pulling over constantly to take in the sweeping views free of the confines of the car. After around six hours of driving we arrive at Sequoia. It reminds me of one of the greatest things about America.

So here's the thing with Sequoia, it is home to the biggest trees in the world, the Giant Sequoias. These trees are huge. Driving through the park Sam and I find ourselves slowly down constantly to look up and gawp at these seemingly endless organisms reaching high up into the sky. They are stunning and have the power to remind me how small I am as a human being. We get out the car a couple of time to investigate and see up close some of the more impressive Giant Sequoias we pass. The big thing we miss though is the tree known as General Sherman, considered to be the largest living organism on the planet, standing at 275 feet tall with 2,200 years under its considerable belt. I wish I had time to explore the national park in full, but the light is failing and we still have a lot of driving to do. Still managed to get some pretty impressive pictures though.

I finally arrived at Coachella the following day and met up with Joel, Travis and Chris. The first thing to say it that it is so hot there. I mean crazy hot, it is the desert after all. All those video I’d seen of people seeming to be fairly languid during Daft Punk at the previous years Coachella - well I now understand that that is almost certainly something to do with the heat, which was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit everyday. Camping was a real struggle and I don't think I've ever drunk so much water in my life. We were all talc-ing up our private parts to avoid chaffing, check out Joel getting stuck in there.

Anyways, here's the thing with Coachella:
1) You're not supposed to take booze into camping with you, but security was fairly lax, so we managed to get around this without too much trouble.
2) There is a 2am curfew on the campground
3) There is also absolutely no post-music entertainment to help bring down the people who have just been partying all day long.
4) It's outrageously expensive for the states. Beers were $7 for a 330ml can of heineken. So that’s $7 for shit beer then.
5) The campsite is arranged in rows. Seriously. No higgledy piggledy. But full on rows upon rows with one big gap splitting the site in two. Not that this was big problem per say, but is kind of indicative of the whole festival organisation. Rules rules rules rules and then some more rules.
6) Not wrist bands for the event, only camping. Which means that if you leave the main arena there is no re-entry. Lame.

Right, now before I moan any further about it let me tell you about our weekend.

Friday.
We queue up for a good 30 minutes in blazing heat and under the sun as we go through the security barriers. The arena is much like Leeds festival I guess. A couple of outdoor arenas, and about 3 or 4 tents. No shopping stalls selling crap you don't need, but that are fun all the same. Only food and official merchandise. Which is disappointing. No new cheap and cheerful festival hats or sunnies for me this year.

So anyways, the music. Well I finally got to see Digitalism and they were brilliant. Not as amazing as I'd hoped, but pretty great nonetheless. They always change up their sets a little, but while the songs were great, I couldn't help but feel the energy just wasn't there in a way it might have been in a small club. Felix da Housecat came out next and was absolutely brilliant. I can't believe I haven't seen him before, but he really did blow me away. Already riding high on the music, me and Joel then danced our little hearts away to Benny Benassi. Got to then see Faithless rock out Insomnia and God is DJ. Wow. Maxi Jazz really hasn't lost it in the slightest. That was such a thrill.

Afterwards we dashed over to see Bjork where me and Joel made friends with a cool random girl in the crowd (hey Evann if you're reading) and her mate in the crowd as we have a habit of doing - also she's cruder than Joel, so of course we instantly like her. Bjork is so much fun. She dances around the stage, belts out her tunes accompanied by a whole choir. She talks to the audience with that delicate childish voice of hers and you can hear everyone in the crowd giggle with delight. She’s amazing. I don’t know how else to describe her really. She’s just so unique and hypnotising. Friday was a great first day.

Saturday

Joel, er, 'showering':

Day gets off to a bad start when Travis gets busted carrying something he shouldn't be carrying into the venue and promptly gets kicked out, ticket confiscated. I don't see this happen as I somehow got filtered into the slowest queue on the planet and had to endure 1 hour queuing in the heat while security dragged their feet, which was more than frustrating, it was dangerous being at not long after midday. I get in fine but only discover then that Travis got booted out. I’m totally gutted and text Travis and tell him to go find a scalped ticket, he does, gets in a different entrance. I give him my poker winnings from the previous night toward the $70 ticket he paid for so it wasn't as bad as it might have been. We see Travis, which is awesome and I'm so chuffed to hear them rock out 'Why does it always rain on me' under the desert sun. Fran is so nice and charismatic. It's a real moment to see them play finally, though memories of an ex come flooding back, it's all good though.

Next up was Kings Of Leon who are great, but really all I can think about at this point is that Arcade Fire are playing after wards. I’m so excited and ready for a truly emotional experience. Arcade Fire are a dream. They were everything I'd hoped for them to be. Epic, deep, powerful and mesmerizing all at the same time. Rebellion nearly brought me to tears, but I held strong. Joel was not so impressed, and later we have an argument regarding their 'religious' undertones. I try to tell him that some of their songs are a critique of religion and not preaching religion. But we decide to have a row about it instead (this was actually when we were back in Austin and drunk - again).

After Arcade Fire I make a bee-line for Justice but only manage to catch the last 10 minutes which is more than a little disappointing. Course there are so many bands I miss its ridiculous. After Justice, LCD play and blow me away. I had no idea they would be this good, but they are. Chris, Joel and myself dance like the crazy fools we are. They close on the Sinatra-esque ‘New York, I love you but you’re bringing me down’, it’s one of those moments that you remember always from a festival. All there was at that time and space was the music and the moment leaving me and a thousand other people entirely enchanted.

After LCD the guys head to see The Good The Bad and the Queen, but I dash to the front for Tiesto closing Saturday on the main stage with all the rest of everyone from the dance tent. He opens with a remix of Imogen Heap, Hide and Seek, and I could cry there and then. Tiesto may not be my bag, but I loved every minute of his deep beats and trance sounds. So many good tracks and he's a pleasure to watch working. Obviously he loves every minute of it especially dropping those big tunes with thumping lines. He closes with Adagio for Strings and I'm spent. Awesome.

So back in the campsite that night, being the night before Rage played (they closed the festival), the riot police (local, state and SWAT cops - plus a helicopter) came into the campsite to break up a party at about 2am. It was nuts. They were armed with tear gas and rubber bullet guns - one guy we saw get beaten up and tazered. I have it all on video. There was a two-hour stand off with campers, of which there was a massive crowd which I was standing in - somewhat inebriated. Canadians were singing 'Oh Canada' English were chatting ‘Oh Lay Oh lay Oh lay oh laaay’, and Rage fans were chanting 'Fuck you I won't do what you tell me'. It was just plain nuts and total brought on by the festival organisers failure to have any post music entertainment for the campers. Music stopped at 12am and there was supposed to be a 2am curfew. Curfew? At a festival. Crazy. It was weird in so many ways it's hard to explain, I mean for sure it was partly due to the fact Rage were playing for the first time in ages and everyone was totally Gee'd up for it. But the festival organisation clearly lacks the foresight to see that people gathered in such a large group need ways to channel their energy. I couldn't believe they sent the police in riot gear in to break up a fairly innocent party. Check out the video and watch out for the dude at the back right getting beaten up by the cops and then tazered!

The only reason it didn't totally kick off was the fact that everyone was filming the cops and if they had fired on the crowd people would have died for sure - can you imagine a stampede in a campsite of all places?!? To the police's credit they did walk away, only after 2 hours of tension though and there were certainly some moments that it nearly happened.

Sunday
I decide I want to take it easy on the last day. Spend what money I have on beer and see only the band I really really want to see before Rage and no running around from tent to tent all the time. We see the last couple of Tape n Tapes tracks - I'm gonna have to get their album - then pretty much wait around for CSS and Klaxons. Wow, both are brilliant and totally rock the entire place. CSS were just so much fun and so up beat. Klaxons lead singer is totally charismatic and I can see why they are so popular on the scene. Their music is brilliant and I'm totally buzzing when I hear them play Skans and Gravity's Rainbow. Awesome. Afterwards I check out Soulwax who are their usual intoxicating selves breaking up their Nite Versions tracks with some club classics.

Then we make our way to the main stage after another couple of beers to get in a good spot for Rage and with the added bonus of seeing Manu Chao. He is so good. Everyone is dancing, and happy and totally pumped up for Rage. Then Rage play, 45,000 people cram in and push forward to see them. It's like a out of body experience for 1 hour and 45 minutes. I'm jumping up and down like a crazy madman. Zach only speaks to the audience once during the whole show - but it's worth it as he lays into the American administrations past and present. As one point saying that if the laws applied to Hitler and the Nazi's after WWII were applied to every American government since WWII they'd all be guilty of war crimes and should be hung. The crowd, naturally, goes wild.

And then is comes. When they close with 'Killing In the Name' the whole place almost loses the plot. Everyone is singing and jumping and these brilliant white lights start flashing. It was sick. Travis thinks he may have actually blacked out in a state of trance at this point. Oh yeah, and Joel pulled this girl just before they came on and was playing tonsil tennis with her right through the Rage set. I have to tap him on the shoulder a couple of times to make sure he knows a track is about to drop less he gets his tough bitten off. Hilarious.

There's no riot afterwards. No revolution. Just a load of very satisfied customers. Ah well. In the end Coachella was a fantastic experience, mainly thanks to the music and the people I was with. I'll never go back there. Apart from the heat, the rules and restrictions - the fact that someone somewhere thought they needed to send riot police in to campsite to break up a party left a taste so sour that it will probably be my overriding memory of the festival and the place. Maybe it was something to do with Rage, or maybe its just that in a country where the individuals you meet are so easy going, that the authorities somehow fall at the opposite end of the spectrum. Policing through force (or the threat of) instead of cooperation and consideration. All it would have taken is dedicated entertainment for festival goers after the music had stopped. Where's the Silent Disco??? Can you really imagine these crazy folks starting trouble at 3am on Sunday night at Leeds festival 2006:

Anyways, the drive back to Austin takes us 24 hours. We decide not to stop by Joshua Tree for a nights camping. It's just too hot. Once we reach Texas we find it is totally pissing it down and I nearly crash the car into a ditch, which came at the end of period where we are all close to killing each other. Seriously, skidding, bracing, and about 3 foot from disaster...oops. But we all make it back alive. Which was nice.

And so that was that. Gonna post a video blog soon, try something a bit different.

"Fight the power"

Riding Shotgun

2007-04-25T09:05:00.000-07:00

Season is over. The mountain is closed. And my short career as a snow bum has come to a premature end. But what a way to finish! The last two days of Heavenly say the snowboarding gods smile brightly in one final ironic snow dump over the mountain. Apparently these past two weeks has been some of the best riding conditions the guys here had seen in a while, I guess bringing that British weather with me was a good thing on this occassion.

I've loved every minute of snowboarding with Sam and his housemates Stan, Renick and Tim. All have helped improved my riding skills immeasurably over the last week to the point where I was following closely behind on the black diamond runs through the woods in fairly deep powder. What a rush. Sam heads back to New Zealand to chase the Southern Hemisphere's winter and I'm sorely tempted to follow him there. I always new I'd love snowboarding, I just had no idea how addictive I would find it to be.

Every night I'd go to bed with new injuries and general bodily exhaustion telling myself that I'd take the day off tomorrow. Of course the following morning I would drag my moaning, creaking body out of bed, stick the kettle on and start immediately thinking about what I wanted to achieve on the snowboard that day. Pretty much every day I've learned or done something new, whether that be new runs or pulling 50-50's on the boxes in the terain park - but it's not been nearly enough to quench the desire for more and to be better than the previous day. I know these kind of thoughts come from skateboarding. But this has allows be the attraction to me of these kind of creative sports. It's the challenges you set yourself, moment to moment, trick to trick, run to run and day to day.

But it's over for now, but not goodbye for good. I'll figure something out, but I plan to be riding again somewhere before the year is out. In the mean time I'm going to supplement my thirst by mountain biking over summer and learning some kayaking skills. Girls love guys with skills.

Speaking of which, mine and Sam's long standing apocalypse training continued the day after Heavenly closed after our day of firearms training with Stan. I've never handled a gun before. Not at all. I've never wanted to, although the curiosity was certainly there. But in the aftermath of the shootings in Virginia I must say I was more compelled to understand guns better than I was further entrenched in my dislike of them. To explain, I wanted to experience what it felt like to have a gun in your hands. I wanted to know more about why people feel the need to own guns. I don't think I'm explaining this as well as I thought about it before hand. For sure I had second thoughts about it after what had happened - an event so inevitable that while shocking all of us, probably surprised few of us - but somehow it also seemed like the timeliest of moments to learn more about this historical piece of American culture.

A big part of the reason for taking this opportunity was the fact that it was Stan who was willing to take myself, Sam and Jason (another new Australian friend) out into the Nevada desert to fire an array of weapons. Stan is a snowboarding instructor at Heavenly, one of the most interesting people I've met in the US, certainly one of the nicest, and also a former Captain in the US Army who served in Afghanistan. If I was going to learn how to handle a gun than I could think of no better person. So it was with that we drove to Stan's home town of Yerington (a tiny mid-west town), over the mountains from South Lake Tahoe sat down for tea and sandwichs with Stan's mum before loading up his jeep with a revolver, a 9mm pistol, a repeat action shotgun and a world famous Kalashnikov assault rifle - the AK-74 (not the 47, this is the modernised model). No doubt this was all very surreal.

Ready for action we swung by Junior's Gun Shop to pick up ammo, which is amazingly cheap. Junior and his buddy were leaning over the counter smoking cigerettes and taking to the local sheriff as we four snow bums ("snow bums eh? Well you guys are alright") entered the shop. As friends of Stan's we're welcomed, especially as he announces this is to be our first day shooting guns. Somewhat mesmerized and scared by the contents of the shop I couldn't bring myself to take any photos inside. Needless to say you could write an essay just on the contents of this local gun shop by itself. An array of rifles and shotguns adorn the wall behind the counter accompanied by a history of posters, news clippings and artifacts. Then there are pictures of local boys who are in the US armed forces dotted around the shop alongside messages of 'support for our troops'. Other posters are about gun ownership rights, one with a picture of Hitler, suggesting that taking this right away is akin to fascism (to be clear not a Nazi supporting poster). Talk during this time inevitably sways to Iraq, I-ran, Syria, A-rabs etc. This is returned with silent nodding on our parts while Stan looked for the ammo needed. I don't know what to tell you about Junior, I guess he's just a guy who wants 'the boys' to come home safe and on a basic level I can see his point of view cos it's these nations that are involved, one way or another in the deaths of American soldiers. The very fact of them being there is an altogether different political conversation that I wasn't about to get into.

The jeep now loaded up we headed off into the desert to a range that Stan and, judging but the spent cartridges everywhere, everyone else in town likes to use. Taking matters on weapon by weapon, Stan was careful to explain the workings of each gun and its safe handling. More generally than this, he discussed important basic safe handling techniques to consider at all times - muzzle control, firing-range protocol, safety buttons, checking and clearing the chamber. No doubt about it, Stan is a excellent teacher and each of us, though very nervous, felt totally comfortable and at ease with him. Having talked about the weapon before hand, its range, effectiveness (Stan is, like any good America, a veritable fountain of knowledge), we then took turns under Stan's watchful eye, at firing. As an added bonus Stan also took us through some soldier soldier turning and firing techniques. Seriously, I can't tell you how odd the experience was, and when you watch the video bellow and see me behaving extremely seriously, please remember this was something you could behave no other way in possession of.

First up was the AK, probably my favourite gun to fire both for ease, accuracy and utility. From here we then moved onto the handguns. Unfortunately Stan's CZ75 9mm semiautomatic handgun jammed, but we were able to each take several turns on the revolver, probably the scariest gun each of us handled. The sheer power and brute force was quite shocking, though nothing we couldn't manage. We used three different types of rounds in the revolver, 44 special, 44 magnum, and 44 magnum extra heavy load. The kick from the last type of ammo hurt like hell and really sent our hands recoiling from the force of the discharge. I would add here that I took the prize of the day, hitting a beer bottle from 50 yards using the regular magnum rounds. That said I don't honesty think I knew much about it, I took my aim, but once I was firing the gun all I could think about was squeezing the trigger, holding on as tight as possible and praying the gun didn't kick back and hit me in the face.

Last up was the shotgun, again which we used two different types on rounds, one of which kicked much more. It's got to be said, Sam was a demon with the shotgun (similarly Jason with the AK), pumping it and firing rounds like he'd done it a hundreds times before. I myself was much more of a scaredy cat, firing a round, spending what seemed like an eternity preparing myself for the next and praying it was the last.

What did I learn form the experience? It's hard to say. I certainly solidified my fearful (and healthy) respect for guns and I definitely now know a lot more about their capabilities. When myself and Sam got back to employee housing in Tahoe we were asked if we'd had fun. Neither of us knew quite how to answer the question, though we both agreed that while we had enjoyed learning how to use the guns we didn't consider it to have been a 'fun' experience. It was a jump in logic that was somewhat beyond Sam and I, but marked the difference between our two cultures. But perhaps the most important thing I gained from the day was the ability to defend myself in the event of a Zombie invasion. In all seriousness though, I remain unsure as to the point of owning such weapons. I understand the attraction to many people, and that for others they are simply a tool. However, I don't know if I can get myself around the fact that ultimately they are designed for one purpose, killing. And that is something I don't ever want to forget.

Next up a road trip with Sam down from South Lake Tahoe to Indio in South California for Coachella where I will meet up with Joel, Travis and Chris. I can't wait to see Joel, it's only been a couple of months, but I've missed my partner in carnage. Only one weekend to make up for the lost time...what will we do???

Crossing the border

2007-04-15T22:56:00.000-07:00

Today was my best day yet on the slopes. I was riding with Sam, Renick and Stan and more or less keeping pace with those boys. I can't begin to describe how good a day was today. It was truly amazing. We rode the lifts up to the top of Sky Line and took some new routes across the border into Nevada. It was total white-out conditions, with about 15-foot visibility in many places. Something about the ghostliness of such poor visibility was really exciting as blurred shapes in the distance slowly came into clarity as we approached them heading down the slopes. Anyways, I'll let the pictures do the talking and a little treat in the form of my lame attempt to record my decent...enjoy. Gonna try hitting some air tomorrow, cross your fingers I don't break anything.

Heavenly creatures

2007-04-14T10:35:00.000-07:00

My journey towards becoming a professional snowboarder has finally begun. I'm in Lake Tahoe, northern Callifornia where I've hooked up with my friend Sam who works at the Heavenly mountain resort. After just two days of riding my enitre body is in agony and covered in bruises but I am loving it.

It's been a while since I last posted, was a strange couple of weeks where I was mainly concentrating on getting over my homesickness. Had some great nights out for 1st Thursday on South Congress and seeing a band called the White Ghost Shivers. I also made some new friends who helped make Austin feel more like home. They know who they are (assuming they're reading). More on all this stuff another time. For now I'm want to tell you about what's been going on here in Tahoe.

So I flew up to Reno International airport on Tuesday and strolled off the play to find the place covered from wall-to-wall slot machines, shinning with their gaudy reds and golds promising fortunes to anyone stupid enough to plant their ass down long enough. Reno I guess is like the mini-Vegas, or maybe Blackpool, of Nevada, it has all the big neon light casinos, strip clubs and tacky shows you could hope for. Thank God I'm not hanging around there. Sam, who I've known since university comes to pick me up and it's brilliant to see him. Sam started snowboarding when we were going to Utah State University together and has pretty much been traveling round the world season to season ever since (with the exception of the broken leg years). I promised Sam years back that I'd come snowboarding with him, and I'm almost more excited to be keeping that promise than I am just to be going snowboarding at all.

In many ways I guess Lake Tahoe is exactly what you expect from a ski resort town in the North West of America. Surrounded by Pine woodland, mountains, very touristy (you can tell many of the homes are holiday homes) and with the added bonus of a huge lake. The vistas are immaculate. We are literally just across the border from Nevada, so immediately across the state line there's a collection of casinos to entertain the holiday crowds at night. Sam lives in employee housing with an interesting group of characters (Renick, Stan and Tim). They're all nice guys and don't seem to mind me hanging around their place at all.

Sam hooked me up with kit for riding and snuck me onto the mountain the first day, dodging pass scanners with all the deftness of a budget traveler. I gotta be honest, it was painful. I spent a lot of time slamming into my butt cheeks, seems I favour the right-hand cheek. I do start to get the hang of what I'm doing slowly but surely, toes and heels guys, toes and heels. It doesn't take long before I've had a couple of face plants. One of which seems to have badly bruised a rib (I hoping it's not worse) and has made it difficult to do anything - including laughing (which I do a lot as most of you know) and breathing. Being at altitude too is exascerbating this as I am constanting short of breathe. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the first day, but as anyone who knows me will testify, I'm a pretty competitive chap. I don't like failing AT ALL. And so I was getting really frustrated at my inability to quick up riding faster. That said, Sam tells me I'm doing really well for my first day. If I'm 100 per honest, I'd say I didn't enjoy the first day as much I had hoped. But this was for no reason other than the fact that after I slammed my ribs I just wanted off the mountain and it took forever. I felt somewhat defeated and vaguely ego-deflated.

Second day comes round and I start pushing really hard under Sam's excellent tutilage (oh, I also bought myself some snowboarding boots, which is very exciting and feels like a longer term commitment). See, it pays to have friends who are also snowboarding instructors, or journalists, or nurses, or restaurant managers, or sparkies. The learning curve has really started to kick in finally and I start linking turns in between wiping out. That said, every time I end up on my arse is a perfect opportunity to take in the amazing view fromt he top of Heavenly's slopes. It's stunning. From the top on a clear day you can see right across Lake Tahoe which is entirely surrounded by snow covered mountains. It's not the highlands like, but it's a fair compromise I think.

Next day I decide to take off and let my body recover as much as possible - God knows it needs it. Off I head on a meander around Tahoe with the mission of finding some new board shorts and flip flops for Coachella. This is a big step for me. I've never been a flip flop kinda guy, but I've decided that 2007 is the flip flop year for me. Already I feel like I've grown up and grown even further into my hippy personna. I am a little preoccupied by the fact that I think the pair I bought are a size too big, but so be it. Moan Moan Moan.

Tahoe is an interesting former American West frontier town and I'm keen to explore it further. I don't know too much about it's history as yet, but I shall investigate and report back. I suspect that there's a history of trading here, I think there is a big Native American past to investigate too. To be honest though, I've been way too tired since I got here to do home work. Riding all day is totally exhausting so my stories of evening debauchery is limited to, er, Sierra Nevada beer and a night at Lakeside Casino, which for anyone who knows 'Swingers' is what you could call 'old school'. Two dollars beers though - nice.

I just got through my third day on the slopes and it was by far and away my best day - add to this my new riding partner for the day, Renick, who proved to be really good mountain company with plenty of helpful tips. In fact today was awesome. I was carving out S-turns the entire way down various runs on the mountain, cruising the whole way down without falling (until the end, which seems to have added whiplash to my growing list of ailments). I managed to just about overcome most of my fears and started to get a real buzz out of what I was doing. The snow started to fall pretty heavy towards the end of the day too, which was so cool. My adrenline was pumping and my euphoria at the experience hitting a new high. I now know for sure this will not be the last time I go snowboarding. In fact I have a strong suspicion that this could become a big part of my life.

Back on the slopes tomorrow, it's snowed a lot the past day, so with a little luck we might have a bit of powder to ride tomorrow. Sweeeeet!

Oh, and finally, I booked my flights to San Francisco for the 25th July through to 31st July. Which meansI'm spending my birthday In San Fran and seeing Daft Punk in Berkeley on the night before, which is clearly awesome. Now all I need to do is find someone to come with me... Any takers?

The parrot is coughing

2007-04-02T05:41:00.000-07:00

Ok, time for a confession. I'm missing London and my friends so much right now I actually feel sick, which I do believe is what they refer to as homesickness. But it got me to thinking. Yep, the old cogs starting turning slowly and going no where in particular, which is he best kind of thinking, er, I think. I don't honestly know what I'm missing, but I think part of it is the past - memories of times long since past linger in my mind and tantalise my soul.

It leaves me wondering what I'm doing sat up at 8am having not slept and typing randomly into the keyboard hoping for something coherent to come out of my fingertips. What am I trying to say? Maybe that I'm scared of tomorrow, wishing for a yesterday that I'm never getting back, and completely losing sight of today. Could be, but it won't last. I have strong suspicion that it has something to do with everyone booking Glastonbury tkts and me not being there. Also I know I've not been busy enough this past week. Though I have been doing stuff, my get up and go is a little on the deflated side.

That said I did go to the St Idiots Collective fundraising party on Saturday night and met some cool people that I hope to see again. St Idiots is Chris Shea's theatre group who I am yet to see perform, but have no doubt I will before the summer is out. I've offered up my services in case they required a baddy with an British accent.

In other news I got my first night game of disc golf in yesterday too. Night Disc golf + full moon + good people = awesome time. Seriously. That said I did spend a good deal of the round in the trees, which became something of a loaded experience after playing partner Matt (Trav was there too) told me to watch out for snakes. I've never seen a proper snake in my life, and that's something I'm in no rush to change. Matt's advice? Shuffle and stamp your feet if in doubt...queue shuffling, stamping and shouting at everything single bush and shadow for the next 17 holes.

Random aside: Have you been listening to Amy Winehouse? Back to Black is streaking up my most played songs on iTunes. It's so fucking good and I'm so much in love with the soul that oozes from Back to Black that I needed to express it somewhere. I can't get enough of it.

Oh, and I went to a fast food joint today (Sonics), drive-in style where the food gets brought out to you by a girl on roller skates! That's right, meals on wheels, styling like. So Happy Days it's brilliant.

I'm mostly posting cos I can't sleep, though my eyes are about to give up the good fight, and cos I wanted to keeping getting stuff up regularly. One of my other recent discovers is that Mosquito's really really like me a lot, and that my body hates them. They are slowly but surely making an attempt to turn me into the elephant man. Every single bite swells to the size of golf ball. Ok, so that's a slight exaggeration (who, moi? as if), but they are pretty big. Honestly.

And finally, I'm still thinking about the whole tattoo issue. May go for something on the back of my shoulder, but I'm not quite there yet. Everyone in Austin has ink, it's crazy. I have no interest in getting one cos everyone else has. In fact to me that's a BIG reason not to get one at all. But I have an ongoing and nagging curiosity about it. What it feels like. Not just because of the needle and all that, rather the sensation of being marked permanently in that way. Just a thought anyways...anyone with an opinion on the matter is welcome to call me on it on myspace. I guess at least it would give me something real to blog about instead of inanely wittering away.

It's a glow-in-the-dark compass ring. So you don't get lost.

2007-03-27T18:43:00.000-07:00

Totally forget to post this up earlier - but look who I found in a random bar in Austin:

It's only bleeding Zoltar. Tried to make a wish, but the cheeky bligher went and nicked my dollar after flashing his eyes and shaking his head a couple of times. What did I wish for? Take me back to the 80s, drop me off at FAO Schwartz's and make sure Robert Loggia's there. Seemed like it was worth a shot...

Oh for those simpler times. If you do anything worthwhile to day, make sure it's learning this tune:

"The space goes down, down baby, down, down the roller coaster. Sweet, sweet baby, sweet, sweet, don't let me go. Shimmy, shimmy, cocoa pop. Shimmy, shimmy, rock. Shimmy, shimmy, cocoa pop. Shimmy, shimmy, rock. I met a girlfriend - a triscuit. She said, a triscuit - a biscuit. Ice cream, soda pop, vanilla on the top. Ooh, Shelly's out, walking down the street, ten times a week. I read it. I said it. I stole my momma's credit. I'm cool. I'm hot. Sock me in the stomach three more times."

Then let this put a smile on your face, and if at any time this week you feel lost or down remember, just cos you're big doesn't mean you have to be grown up...

Say something, anything

2007-03-26T20:14:00.000-07:00

Wanted to make sure I was still posting things, though the past week has largely been spent recovering form SXSW's exertions and feeling guilty about the work I haven't been getting on with. That said I do have news: got my flight to Lake Tahoe booked and so am flying out to Northern California to hook up with Sam and do some snowboarding for a couple of weeks.

That's the big news for sure. Plan is to hang out with Sam for these couple of weeks before working my way down to Palm Springs for Coachella. Basically April is gonna be an immense month. I'm so excited about this. Trav, Chris, Joel and I are gonna tear it up and see some amazing music. Looks like I've managed to sell the guys on staying for an extra couple of days of camping at Joshua Tree National Park.

April is also the month Trav, Chris and I are supposed to be sorting out our new lodgings, but, alas, it seems our get up and go on this front is lacking somewhat. I'm sure we'll pull our sick together and get it sorted. I'm kinda suffering a minor bout of homesickness that I know I will pull through, but it's definitely dinted my motivation slightly. I'm spending far too much time ambling through my own thoughts when I should really be getting on with living life. No worries, I know I'll pull it together.

I just got through watching Cameron Crowe's Singles (1992) for the first time ever. Probably wasn't the best movie selection given my current state of mind, but I'm a sucker for relationship movies. I can see why there would have been a time when I could learned a full useful life lessons from this film, but I am somewhat well versed in the 'dos and don'ts' of the game of love. That's not to say that I'm any good at them, I just know them well.

Singles is about a group of 20-something friends in Seattle, bumbling their way from relationship to relationship, essentially looking for anyone who resembles 'the one'. To be honest I don't even think 'the one' is that important in this movie, just someone who at least fits kind of right. Hey, at least it's a pragmatic approach right?

The film is more than anything else, merely a collection of moments that you will recognise from your own experiences in life and love, and it is in this that it finds its strength. Its truth. Moments shared between two people that are the first tentative steps toward the beginning of something - the fleeting and frightening. At those moments where there is that recognition that hearts are being stolen, recklessly unguarded with all the intoxicating excitement fueling the adrenaline that causes the heart pump triple time.

Yeah, so I liked Singles. Perhaps we've grown passed this now though. Perhaps it was of a different time and our concerns in regard to personal success and male/female relationships have evolved a little further. Or maybe they are both just as messy as they've always been and it's just our hairstyles and dress sense that have changed.

In a final note, my Disc Golf performances have got much worse of late, my last effort clocking up 20-over. I wonder if I shouldn't have been so quick to be slight about the great sport of hippy golf. Although I also wonder if it had something to do with my lack of alcohol intake last round....hmmm.

Memories are made of these

2007-03-20T15:58:00.000-07:00

There's good reasons why festivals make for such life-enduring memories. Number one is the sheer choice of events. Number two is the outright unpredictability of it all. Number three is the people you share the experience with. South By South West has been another such festival for me.

Friday started out in classic festival fashion, hungover, at a strange location with complete certainty about how I came to be there. Having got home, got myself together and headed back downtown for yet more activities. The decision was made to blow off movies for the day and seek out whatever music was on for free. I had already seen that Island Records were hosting a free gig at Bourbon Rocks with The Fratellis, so that seemed as good a place as any to get the day started - or the mid-afternoon at least.

Chris Tilly and I made our way down and found Malcolm and Thea (of the Lost In Woonsocket team) already at the venue. Chris didn't stay, there was a lot of other things going on, so I stayed with Thea and Malcolm, got a free beer of a lovely Miller Lite girl and waited for the next band to come on, The Rumble Strips. Hailing out of Devonshire, The Rumble Strips are apparently on the up, although I've never heard of them. To my surprise I really enjoyed these guys, but then again I do have a predilection for anything with even a vague big band sound. A five piece band, The Rumble Strips include the usual lead singer/guitarist, drummer and bassist - but as an added bonus their number also include a trumpeter/pianist and a saxophonist (btw the way, you can tell why I'm a film journo and not a music journo right now yeah?). Anyway, these guys are a lot of fun, really upbeat and I will definitely be looking them up in the future.

Next up The Fratellis. Now I'd missed the Scottish lads at Leeds Festival last summer and Kay had banged on and on about them. Of course I'd heard them plenty since, but I remained to be convinced that they were really anything new to shout about. Having seen them play this gig at SXSW I was a little more sold on them, though they still invoke a degree of apathy from me. The crowd really picked up and the trio rocked out their best known tracks 'Henrietta', 'Flathead' and 'Creepin Up The Downstairs'. There's a total streak of Scottish fun-loving folkishness that perferates their sound and that I love. But I can't get what Athina and Tristan said to me out of my head, that their a poor man's Arctic Monkey's. Either which way, I let the music carry me away as another free Miller Lite from the lovely Miller Lite girl lightens my spirit.

What happened from here on out is so strange that I look back with surreal bafflement. Chris Tilly calls and tells me to get my ass to Guadalupe and 6th cos The Pipettes are Djing to an empty room except for him and Tilly and the Wall. Making a quick dash to Chris' location I arrive to find the man with the biggest smile on his face and a large vodka and orange in his hand. "Let's just get really pissed, dance with Tilly and the Wall and have a really good time" suggests a deliriously happy Chris. Who the hell am I to argue? After all Chris was the one who only 3 hours early had been suffering with a virus that would soon knock my ass on the floor in the coming days.

The Pipettes just finished as I arrived only for the entire Tilly and the Wall band to take to the DJ booth and start busting out the most random selection of tunes imaginable. Chris starts pouring vodka tonics down my throat with little argument from myself. Before very long I know I'm pretty tipsy and busting out my dancefloor moves with only Chris Tilly, a couple of similarly intoxicated folks and...well, Tilly and the Wall. At every turn I see Chris talking to another member of the band, introducing me to the band, taking pictures of the band. It's hilarious. Weird, but totally hilarious. I'm feel like somehow I've accidently stumbled into Chris Tilly own private wet dream. It's ok though, it can't be much different to falling into an episode of the Smurfs: an out-of-body experience in which you never feel anything but safe. I'm in Tillyland now, and there's no leaving it.

Feeling a definite need to step out of the madness for a moment I decide I need to step outside for a breather. As I sit down on the kerb outside I realise that Becky from The Pipettes is right by and me a decide to strike up a conversation with her. I really like The Pipettes so this is a bit of a buzz. Their from Brighton, so this seems like as good a place as any to start a conversation given my own history with the little town on the sea. Anyway, she's really cool and we blether away about nothing in particular until Rose (moody Pipette) comes over and takes her away to the VIP room. What no invite? I hear you ask. I know...and I thought I'd played this one rather cool.

Anyways, after a time Chris Shea appears on the scene and can't stop smiley at the baffling scenario we are describing and that which he can see with his own eyes. But we've got other places to be, so off we set across the river for the open air Public Enemy concert on Town Lake. Now if you had told me 18 years ago when I bought my first single, 'Don't believe the hype' from It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back, that I would ever get to see them in concert, much less that they'd still be alive, I would have thought you a crazy man. But here I was, jumping up and down in a huge field to the rhythms of Chuck D and Flavor Flav. The only thing missing was Teminator X, but he didn't go without note by main man Chuck D. And more so it was Flavor Flav's birthday.

Now this is the stuff memories are made of. It was sooo good I had goodpimples as they bust out an array of classic tunes, in between some a couple of new tracks including a seriously anti-Iraq song, which I wish I knew the name of. It was something to be in the home state of the US President as Public Enemy yelled out for call and response, "fuck George Bush, fuck Dick Cheney, fuck Tony Blair, fuck Condalezza." Oh my god it was unreal. I kept looking at the other guys who had equally stupid grins on their faces (though Chris Tilly's may have been residual from earlier). Needless to say I will never forget seeing Public Enemy in a field in Austin. If I have to come home tomorrow it will have all been worth it.

Taking our leave of Chuck D and co, Chris Shea, Chris Tilly and myself made a sharpish return across the river and headed directly to La Zona Rosa, the location of many of my misadventures these passed days. We arrive for something I've been looking to since I first heard hear lavish sound, an uninterrupted hour of Amy Winehouse stealing my soul.

Now first of all I gotta say this...Dermot O'Learly is hosting the gig? That's somehow rather surreal and in perfect keeping with the days developments.

Anyways, Amy comes out. She's nervous, she's charming, she's gorgeous. I don't know what it is about that girl, but she is the type who oozes sex appeal. I have to be honest things got off to a dicky start when in an attempt to get closer to the action I got a terribly hard time from this English woman who had a go at me for standing in front of her while Chris Shea stood back looking at me wondering why I was making a fuss while grinning from cheek to cheek at my predicament. In the end I got embarrassed into retreat and, with my tail between my legs, I backed down, but this wasn't gonna stop my enjoyment of the gig - although my ego was a little bruised. Perhaps though this was the perhaps emotional place to begin a Amy Winehouse set. Love me Amy...

Trust me, Amy Winehouse is so much better live then even the heady heights of her recorded, studio-perfected work. I know these comparisons have been written by people far more knowledgeable on such matter than I, but that she reminds me so much of Nina Simone and Billie Holiday is so striking. I love every minute of her performance, right up to her confession of being a bit pissed before her band guide her into 'Rehab' which brings the house down and later 'Back to Black' which is easily my favourite heart-breaker of a song right now. I'm so smitten with this girl, I can't wait to see her evolve and grew into one of the greats.

After the Amy Winehouse gig, the two Chris's dash off to Stubbs Bar BQ while I run off to meet Travis to see MSTRKRFT. It was ok, but way too trancy for my likely. The John Digweed comes on and I can't take anymore. It was a cool little electro interlude, but way too much Trance. Afterwards I run into Chris Tilly, Thea, Malcolm, Ashley (also of Woonsocket) and Shea's friend Deb. We enjoy a couple of final drinks before last orders are called and we head our separate way. Thea and Malcolm are leaving the next day and suggest going back to their hotel, the Hyatt no less, for some hot tub action. In the spirit of the weekend we rock on, even Chris Tilly who is starting to really struggle with this virus - what can I say? I'm a wonderful influence on people...

It was sad to say goodbye to Malcolm and Thea, they had been festival highlights for me, seemingly ever present where ever we were. Though I secretly suspected Chris and Thea were stalking one another. I guess I have more festival stories than these. So much more in fact. The final Saturday I took really ill, my fault for getting in a jacuzzi at 3 in the morning. I could tell you about the much hyped VICE magazine party we went to at an old masonic lodge but was shut down after a huge concrete balcony collapsed with me and Chris only 10-feet from being crushed:

Or I could tell you about the party in the Enchanted Forest that we walked to with Trav and Mary as a back up and where Trav seemed to disappear into a K hole:

Instead I'm gonna take a breather and let this be the end of my South By South West 2007 blogging record. I hope I've done it any level of justice. It really has been a experience riddled with everlasting moments, from the movies to the parties, from the music to the people and, of course, Paul Rudd. Thank you for the memories SXSW...

5 days one blog...

2007-03-17T12:57:00.000-07:00

I wish I could've have been updating the blog on a daily basis, but it has been an insane few days here at South By South West. I'm gonna try give you an overview of the highlights. It gets crazier by the day. Let's begin on Monday...

Day one:

Paul Rudd had been at nearly every party in town up till this point and I'd seen two of the movies he was in at the festival (Knocked Up, The Ten), both of which were very good. Finally I decided to take the opportunity to say hello at The Austin Chronicle party at La Zona Rosa and ended up having a wee chat about how great London is. It had to be done, if only cos I'd seen him just about all week long. Not usually one for the whole meeting celebs and 'love you work' bull. But couldn't resist shooting the shit with him, even if only for a minute. What was particularly cool was when the 50th person came up to him to get a picture and he obliged, Paul, (that's right, he's Paul to me now) looked over and he kinda rolled his eyes at me. Yeah, I hear you mate, I thought as I returned my own knowing roll of the eyes as though I wasn't just another person who wanted to say hi to an actor and tell people about it...not at all.

(I realise the above summation is rather random, however there's so much to fit in I really am gonna zip through it all).

Day two:

The next day is equally a blur. Got up vaguely early as it had been another late night with a visit to Magnolia Cafe in the wee small hours for food as Trav was working the night shift. Saw a fairly mediocre documentary called 638 Ways To Kill Castro. It was about various different plots to kill old Fidel, (surprising that eh?) but really failed to get to the meat of anything. The closest it came when it crossed George W Bush path, referring to his warnings about anyone in the world harbouring terrorists and with the US and CIA's sponsorship of Cuban exile terrorists responsible for blowing up a plan from Barbados bound for Havana. Only danced around the subject as the focus was on the plots to kill Castro. Ultimately it was 75 minutes of movie about the fact that The Beard while probably end up dying of natural causes as a final skit to the world's biggest superpower who had tried for years to off him using everything from rockets to poisoned wetsuits to his own wife. Interesting fact, President Reagan's administration is attributed with the most attempts, 197 according to the film. And in case you didn't know, assassination of political leaders is in fact illegal.

Tuesday was in fact the final day of the film conference even though films were continuing to screen through till Saturday. With the music festival kicking off Wednesday this meant the final SXSW film fest awards were held Tuesday night with the closing party following on. Both Chris Tilly are I were somewhat perturbed that neither of us had seen any of the films that won awards. Not sure what we've been doing with ourselves all week to that point. Undeterred we headed off to the closing party where I bumped into one of the award winners and for reasons unknown to myself, but perhaps relating to my vast alcohol consumption, proceeded to tell him how good I thought his film was. Perhaps it was to ease my conscience by confusing it.

Day three:

Wednesday begins with another hangover. With blurred vision and malnutrition I drag my ass out of bed for what I have decided is to be a full day of movies to make up for prior slackness. First on the list is The Prisoner: Or How I Planned To Kill Tony Blair. It a documentary made by the same people behind Gunner Palace, a brilliant docco following a platoon of marine in Baghdad. During that film, we see a man and his brothers arrested - I remember the moment vividly. The man is given a hard time by the marines and while sat on his knees, hands tied behind his back, the man looks into camera and says, "I am journalist, this is mistake." Even then with a natural inclination to side with the marines it was obvious something was out of place. "Shup up" whispers the marine in the man's ear. "Shup up, I know this. Always 'shup up' in Iraq."

Filmmakers Michael Tucker and Pera Epperlein decided to follow up this story and discovered the man, Yunis Abbas, was telling the truth, he was a journalist. However, 'intelligence' had fingered him and his brothers as being the masterminds behind a plot to kill Tony Blair. This was of course nonsense, however, it did not stop Yunis Abbas and his brothers from spending nine months in Camp Ganci, a 'soft' internment near Abu Gharaib. Yunis also spent some time in this now infamous house of horror.

For me the tragedy of this speaks in so many volumes. Consider this for one, Yunis Abbas was imprisoned by Saddam Hussein's government for three months for things he had written (hence 'always shup up in Iraq'), where he was tortured under the reign of terror over various elements of Iraqi society as implemented by Uday Hussein. Now his so-called liberators are imprisoning him and torturing him.

It's not the best documentary in the world ever and I don't have more time or space to talk about it here, but I want to stop short of criticisms here for once. I have so much respect for filmmakers seeking out these stories in order to make sure they are heard. What right do I have to comment on the technical merits of the work? I know it's my job, but this story really got to me.

Next up I dash back to the Paramount theatre to see Big Rig, a documentary about truckers. I'd been dead excited about this one, but sadly it didn't really meet my expectations. It started out well enough in its portrait of this modern American cowboy, but ultimately went nowhere, except across the country and back a few times. But bumped into my new friends from the film Lost In Woonsocket, Thea and Malcolm. I convince Malcolm to come see this other film called Cherry Valley with me. Then I feel bad when it turns out to be the worst film in the festival. 75 minutes of my life I will never get back. I sacrifices I make to save your souls from making the same mistakes.

Back downtown me and Malcolm hit the Big Rig after party for a free beer and I end up chatting to this guy who gets me stuck on the guest list for Reign On Me, the big new Adam Sandler film that is screening a sneak peak at the Paramount. I feel really bad cos I didn't know this guy James was gonna stick me on the list and I feel awkward about asking him if he can stick Malcolm on too. Malcolm decides to go home and I feel terrible. Anyway, I get to the movie and find myself totally alone sat in the guest seating row. Next thing Malcolm strolls up and sits down next to me. Turns out he bumped into Sandler at the hotel who proceeded to make sure his name was on the list too. Awesome! The film is very funny and I really enjoyed it. Some might find it rather sacchrine, and there will always be those who just don't like Adam Sandler. But it's well worth checking out.

Afterwards I make a dash to see the midnight screening of Black Sheep, a comedy horror about, well, zombie sheep. Trust me, this film is brilliant. If you love your horror flicks then you must check this one out. It lags a little in the middle, and cos of the day I've endured I dose off momentarily, but all in this in non-stop fun. I'd met the director a couple of nights back a really cool New Zealander who was drinking a pink alcoholic beverage at the La Zona Rosa party. We bonded over our common parlance for taking the piss out of the English and the Aussies. Anyways, I'm interviewing him this week for Total Film, so that should be cool.

Day four:

The entire morning and most of afternoon is a blow due to tiredness and need to catch up on writing. But I finish up and run to join Travis in the queue for the Bloc Party gig at Stubbs BBQ. South By South West is in full swing now. I can't begin to describe the madness that has descended upon 6th street (the main street in town). It's amazing and the place is covered top to bottom in Brits, which annoys me somewhat as it really dilutes my local value. Nevertheless I catch the eye of a good-looking red head in the queue who gives me hear phone number and tells me I'm adorable. Now I don't handle these sorts of things very well, I blush terribly, start shaking and feel very odd. Not a big fan of attention like this, too much pressure involved. Or at least I think there is. Stubbs is an amazing outdoor venue by the way. One of the best in Austin I believe, and unlike anything we have at home.

Anyways, the gangs all in to see the gig. Aqualung and Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly both play and I'm largely unimpressed. Then The Dears come on stage and I'm totally blown away. They are awesome, but I'm a little distracted now by the red head who found me inside and my once again lack of food fueled inebriation. C'est la vie. When Bloc Party come on though, I'm all ears devoting at least 85 per cent of my attention to Kele and co.

A little to my surprise the tracks from the new album sound considerable better live than on the album. I found Weekend In The City more of a 'plug in and switch off' kind of album. But no, here I am jumping around and singing along like there's no tomorrow. Then they play 'This Modern Love' and I have a proper moment. I hold it together, but it feels strange to have this girl clinging to me while I think about someone else. Strange indeed.

Day five:

Friday was to be a day getting back on the movie horse. Instead this plan was abandoned for a day of pure carnage instead. So good was Friday in fact, I am going to dedicate one blog to it. So four days is your lot in fact...I know you're secretly grateful. Allow me to placate you with this recent addition to the drive through family - drive though Starbucks. Sick.

The daily Grindhouse

2007-03-13T15:22:00.000-07:00

Today was my first day in Austin without a hangover. I can’t tell you how much of an achievement this is and how much of a relief to my wallet it was. Budgets have already been blown out the window by my inability to say no to anything. One little word. How hard can it be? Then again, who wants to be a ‘No-person’.

Anyways, I digress. Day three at the South by South West Film Festival starts off with the Grindhouse 101 session with director Robert Rodriguez and Aint It Cool News honcho Harry Knowles. Now for those friends of mine who don’t know, Grindhouse is the new double feature from Rodriguez (Planet Terror) and Quentin Tarantino (Death Proof) that is set for release this summer. Very soon you’ll be receiving a crash course in the cinematic form known as grindhouse.

In the briefest way I can tell you grindhouse is exploitation film, though I use the term very loosely. Grindhouse is graphic – oh so graphic. It’s been around since the 50s, but became real popular in the 70s. This is not auteur film by any stretch. In fact the worse made a grindhouse film is the better it is. We’re talking about films that rely on the sensational and the downright outrageous as their bread and butter. These are movies with tits, balls, and big guns.

Rodriguez has with him some clips of old grindhouse movies such as The Green Slime and The Crippled Master (which looks amazing). This is some seriously cool stuff. It’s a good introduction to the form although little more than.

The two best moments of the whole session are the clip we see from Planet Terror and the Eli Roth (Cabin Fever, Hostel) fake trailer made for the intermission between the two movies. The film hasn’t even gone to the MPAA yet and make well have parts of the scene we see removed. When you see the film you will find there are crazy jump cuts and slices that make no sense and the narrative has moved on. In grindhouse cinema if a scene is censored by the MPAA the filmmakers simply cut the scene, so Rodriguez’s plans this for his movie. It’s not going to float all your boats, but it sure will be a wild ride.

So in the clip we see Freddy Rodriguez and his ragtag band of people are doing their best to escape a horde of zombies. Weaponed and in an array of vehicles they charge head of splattering zombies as they go. When I say splatter I mean SPLATTER. And the exploding dog. It’s hilarious. But my favourite bit has to be Freddy R pulling a ripping wheelie on his mini-motorbike (you know, the chavy ones) and peeling out. Fucking awesome.

Now let me tell you this, the Eli Roth ‘Thanksgiving’ trailer will never see the light of day (except on DVD). This 3 minute trailer is so outrageous it’s unbelievable and Roth is almost certainly going straight to hell…possibly pulling a wheelie on a mini-motorbike. Apart from the serial killer humping the severed area of upper torso there is a moment with a naked cheerleader on a trampoline, only her mini skirt covering her personal regions. Ok, so I’m just gonna blurt this out. Knife through the tramp, cheerleader spread eagle leaving nothing to the imagination, nothing, going for a bump bounce. What happened next I can’t say cos I couldn’t look. But you can guess. Sick.

Next up in my day was a Conversation with Morgan Spurlock, he of Super Size Me fat, sweatiness fame. I love this guy, have done since I interviewed him for the film. He turns up sporting a large Taliban-style beard and prior to the session I had heard a very interesting rumour about his upcoming film Where in the world… So Spurlock has been shooting in the Middle East for the passed year or so and in that time his wife has also had a baby. Here’s the thing, the thing that I heard.

Question number one: "Morgan, did you find Osama Bin Ladin?"

Spurlock: "You’ll have to see the movie."

I don’t know the truth, I only know the Weinsteins bought the film for millions of the back of a couple of clips of an incomplete movie a couple of months ago at the Berlin Festival. We will know soon enough, but watch this space, I think this is going to be the biggest film story of the year. It’s so fucking huge it can’t be true…can it?

After Spurlock I head over to see Christain Slater’s new movie He Was A Quiet Man. I liked this movie more than I expected even though it had been me harping on to Chris about heading out to the Paramount theatre to see it. It’s a very dark comedy, twisted in parts, but really endearing and enjoyable. Slater is an loner office worker who fantasises about murdering his co-workers who torment him. He doesn’t have the guts, until one day another equally socially challenged worker, white, shirt, tie, glasses, brown socks and half masts type beats him to the punch. Slater kills the gunman and from here takes care of the office beauty he had an eye for and who is no paralysed in the aftermath. I’m not going to say anymore, but this is a really odd little movie with a lot going for it. Far from perfect, but very enjoyable. And did I mention twisted? You get the idea.

Afterwards Chris and I head to a bar called Antone’s to see Robert Rodriguez’s band, Chingon (translated as Badass), play. In between we pop over to the He Was A Quiet Man party for drinks. The director Frank Capello buys me a JD and coke, sweet and I make a vague attempt to chat up the film’s assistant director. In the end her married sister is much nicer and we bond over both being the eldest of five. Random.

Back to the Grindhouse party at Antone’s and Rodriguez’s band come out. These guys are fucking amazing! He has two guitarist who play in a mariachi style I guess, though I don’t know much about this kind of music. These guys are unreal, I can’t even describe, but I have video and will post it later. The pace of their playing is furious, they riff off one another and more than anything, it’s great to see musicians having such unbridled joy in performance. Rodriguez is pretty good too and a highlight is him and the two other guitarists all stood on their chairs playing with their guitars behind their heads…way cool. Which is what Rodriguez almost certainly is.

Not quite partied out yet, I manage to hog a lift off of this nice aussie (of course guys, I attract them like groupies to a rock star) guy called Dave and his wife to a bar called The Longbranch. A stonking 60s party is in full swing and as I am wanton to do I find myself dancing on chairs, slutting it up like no one was watching. We hit a house party afterwards where I had fun chatting to a couple of guys on shrooms. Mostly I made lots and lots of friends.

It was a good day. I’ll come up with more meaningful stuff sometime in the future, for now though I’m just trying to keep track of where the hell I’m at. Needless to say I’m loving Austin.

South by South West

2007-03-10T23:52:00.000-08:00

It's been two very busy days at South by South West Film Festival. Austin is buzzing right now, and that's saying something for a town that has a natural inclination to buzz either way. Friday morning myself and Chris got ourselves registered, I made a silly smiley face when staff took my picture for my badge as I have a habit of doing. First up, Disturbria party. Free booze, chips, salsa and Guacamole. You know how I lov my Guac.

Me and Chris decide to skip Disturbia and instead head straight to the festival opening screening of The Lookout. In the queue for the film we meet the lovely people from Spout.com who kindly by us a round of drinks while we wait. I think they took pity on my freelance status. Either that or they just know that freelancers don't tend to pick up the tab. We also meet the makers of the documentary film Lost in Woonsocket, some really nice people with what sounds like a great film - but more on that later.

Scott Frank, the screenwriter behind Out Of Sight, is making his directorial debut with The Lookout, which stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Brick), Jeff Daniels and Isla Fisher (yep, her of Home And Away fame). The film is about a Chris who has memory problems following a serious car accident as a high school senior in which two of his friends die. Think Memento. Gordon-Levitt's character, Chris, gets himself mixed up with the wrong crowd who rope him into helping them rob the bank at which he works. Unfortunately all that follows is highly predictable. The film was decidedly average, although Gordon-Levitt does demonstrate once again why he is an actor to keeps your eyes firmly fixed on.

Afterwards we head to the opening night party, at which Paul Rudd appears to be the main attraction. Ok, in actual fact the main attraction is a very attractive blonde who I spy very early on. Later, once sufficiently intoxicated I manage to get her number, which is nothing short of a miracle.

Saturday: A busy day slowed by the hefty weight of the hangover I'm nursing. First up is a press conference for The Lookout which I decide to head to without Chris who is off watching some other films. I wish I was with him The press conference is a nightmare heightened by the fact there are hardly any journalists there other than me, who has to ask the majority of the questions, all made up on the spot, starring at the cast and director through extremely bloodshot eyes. Nice one Scott.

After that I head to the Conversation with Richard Linklater event, which I must say is largely by the numbers. Though I do now know that he is working on a new script about his freshman year at college - 'Dazed and Confused goes to college', we are told.

By now it's nearly 4pm and I haven't seen a film so decide to sack of food shopping and head to the Paramount theatre for a screening of The Ten. As it turns out this film of ten parts, each relating to one commandment, is extremely funny. At times pushing the line of good taste so far that your not sure if the filmmakers are destined for hell, before pulling you back in with brilliant wit and razor sharp humour. I really enjoyed this one, not only that, but it the second time I see Paul Rudd in as many days.

Afterwards I meet up with Chris and we head back to the Paramount to watch Manufacturing Dissent. I tell you right now, this film is gonna cos some waves in documentary filmmaking. It is essentially an expose of Michael Moore by left wing filmmakers. Nothing in the film surprised me, though it did leave me shocked. Shocked and disappointed. Moore comes across as incredibly hypocritical, entirely insincere, and ultimately maniacal by the end of the film. When this one gets a distributor and hits the UK it is not to be missed.

Sorry these passed blogs have been a little dull, I've been so busy and done so much that I'm really on a stream of consciousness kick to get it down. Tomorrow's will be better I promise. Oh, and I'll get lots of pics up soon

It's not a game, it's a way of life

2007-03-10T10:31:00.000-08:00

South by South West has officially begun and I have a seriously full slate of screenings, press conferences and parties to hit. It's a tough life eh? Actually, running around the city with a raging hangover isn't the most fun in the world and putting together coherent sentences is more than a little tricky. But it's all part of the experience.

So my friend Chris Tilly got here on Wednesday, in for the festival too. He has taken to Austin like a duck to water, but I've come to expect nothing less of the lad. That boy knows how to come home with a story like no other. First night with my Brit sidekick in Austin we headed to a bar where one of Travis' friends, Mike, was DJing. Met loads of Trav's friends including this girl Shannon and her husband Cali. Ok, so Cali is a professional body modifier and Shannon a professional dominatrix. I didn't for a second hide my total intrigue as both explained their jobs to me. Wow. Not even sure I can possibly do justice to how much of the rest of the evening was spent with my jaw on the floor.

Much alcohol was consumed and new friends made. Oh and I started busting out some London town moves on the dance floor. It wasn't tragic or anything, but it wasn't very cool. But you gotta dance like no ones watching, right?

We survived the night at least and I think Tilly was in seventh heaven having met a Shannon - I kinda suspect he had a crush on her and god knows what sordid activity he'd get up to given the opportunity. One suspect he'd be biting off a little more than he could chew...

Next day was the day of the Disc Golf. Hangovers ahoy, bags loaded up with discs and beer we headed out to the course with another couple of Travis' friends, Dennis and Terry. It was a stunning day and there was a large group of us (10) out for a 18 hole round.

Let me say this, if you want to understand Austinites all you need do is join them for a round of disc golf. Quirky, laid back, eccentric, easy-going...any variation of this comes some what close to describing where these guys are coming from. It's not just a game, it's a way of life.

I'll try and explain disc golf here as briefly as possible. Like normal golf there is a tee-ing off place, and there is a hole. You shout 'four' if it looks like your frisbee is gonna hit someone - and with 10 of us playing there's a good chance. Each hole has a par number, though on the course we are playing every one is a par three. You drive with a driving disc, putt with a putter etc. Ok, I've started to make it sound boring. My bag was full of beers, I was wondering around in beautiful sunshine, and there was not a trouble in mind.

"There's no such thing as a bad round of disc golf except when you lose a disc." I'm telling you, they love their disc golf in Austin. So anyways, I do ok, so I'm told. 13 over par was my final figure. Not bad at all I feel.

After disc golf, most of the group headed over to a friend's house for BBQ where me a Chris ate brisquite for the first time. I have no idea if that's how you spell that, but I know it's smoked beef. I have no interest in wiki-ing it right now. Let me tell you this though, the guys here know how to make good salsa. Boy do they.

In other news, I discovered a new drive-through...yep, drive-through banking.

And by the way, I haven't mentioned how outrageously huge everything in Texas is. Everything in Texas is bigger, even, as Trav has told me like 3 times already, the state capitol building. It's in the Texas constitution. Go look it up people.

Lacking photos cos of my crappy camera. Will get them up asap.

Welcome to the Lone Star state

2007-03-07T12:33:00.000-08:00

So I am here in Austin and I can't imagine it will surprise anyone to know that I committed my first crime within three hours of landing on Texan tarmac. Yep, illegal drinking in Magnolia cafe after 2am (punishable by a not so light fine I told) - who'd a guessed it? However, the good news is I didn't get caught, so this trip is already looking positive compared to my last American misadventure that led to a seven-year long hiatus. I promise I will be careful though folks.

It still feels totally unreal being here - although this may be the jet lag, which is having an extra potent effect on me as Travis and his flatmate Chris don't sleep until around 3am - 9am to your folks back home and/or my body clock - and get up around 1pm. To say I'm monging out would be an understatement. I'm sure it won't take long for me to adjust, Travis and co will just have to cope with occasional episodes of absent staring on my part. Many people back home are, of course, entirely used to that regardless of jet lag.

What I have discovered so far: Americans haven't changed in at the seven years I've been gone. Oh, they do have mobile phones now though, which means like us back home they can no-longer organise a piss up in a brewery. And George Bush Jr - but we already knew about that guy didn't we. Nope, Americans are still kinda loud and they still don't do irony. I'm gonna save other observations for later when they are less like sweeping statements and more like carefully considered observations. I did however just discover that Americans don't just have drive-in movies, drive-through fast food and, of course, drive-by shooting. You can drive-through 'shop for beer', drive through 'post your mail' and god knows what else, but I'm certain more will follow - perhaps drive-through voting or drive-through strippers.

Speaking of which, there is a strip club called Expose just round the corner from Travis' place. Now I've never been to a strip club before, I don't really agree with them - scratch that, I disagree with them - but I have a strong suspicion I will end up there with Travis and his rag tag band of Austinites are some point or another. Chalk it up to experience I guess. Oh and the shooting range. I've been told now that I live in Texas I need to go fire some automatic weaponry. To be honest I don't know whether I more scared of the strip club or the gun club.

What I am excited about though is my first round of Disc Golf tomorrow. It's golf, but with frisbees. No, seriously. There is even a Professional Disc Golf Association (PDGA). Five courses in Austin alone. Basically what we have here is the hippy equivalent of golf - so let's just call it that, Hippy Golf. Fantastic.

Here's a great little tidbit from Wiki:

Disc golf, in some form, has probably been played since the early 1900s. But the modern day disc golf started in the late 60's. George Sappenfield, a Californian, realized that golf would be a lot of fun if played with Frisbees

Travis gave me my own disc bag and a couple of frisbees for my first game, which is awesome (Chris and Travis have really done their best to make me feel at home). I know I sound glib (something else I not sure if Americans get), but I really am excited about tomorrow. I can't imagine anything that could be that much more fun on a lazy sunny day than wondering around a park with beer, a group of friends, throwing frisbees as far as possible. By the way, did I mention they have different discs for different throws. Drivers, putters, chippers, the works. Just take a read of the Wiki link. Hilarious.

Other than this I should mention the weather is great. Still got a massive sense of apprehension and definitely in fear of the cultural hurdles - I even feel awkward about ordering a coffee and doing something wrong (it's the accent - I'm doing my best to be stealthy). But nothing ventured nothing gained right?!?