Grumpy And The Little Voice

Back from four days partying in the bush. Drove to Braidwood just out of Canberra and had a lovely time. Compared to the last doof we went to (our first in Melbourne that wasn't Rainbow), we knew so many people. It was really good to be at a party with so many friendly faces again... well the faces at Maitreya were friendly, we just didn't know any of them. This, on the other hand, was a real gathering and much fun was had. It was really good to get a solid hit of bush, barefeet and beats.

Needless to say, the apartment looks like a bomb went off. Clothes everywhere and we're trying to dry two tents out on our small balcony (it rained on the last morning we were there).

I've spent the day trying to get the tents and a hammock dry, washing clothes and writing. Had to write the Grumpy column below as well as editing a Q&A from Deya Dova for her new album of remixes and writing up a 550 word story from 1200 words. I haven't done that in ages and I still enjoy it.

I'll post the Deya Dova stuff shortly. For now, here's some Grumpy...

GRUMPY

Another long weekend, another road trip to another festival. This one's an interstate one involving quite a long drive so we decide to break the trip up and stay somewhere overnight.

“Where do you want to stay?”I ask.

“Don't know,” The Dreaded One replies vaguely, packing her bag days before we are due to leave. I, on the other hand, am Last Minute Man. The fact that she is planning so far ahead and I leave everything to the last minute makes things all the more ironic.

I look at the map and pick a couple of places that appear to be halfway. I suggest these halfway places. The Dreaded One is more interested in whether she should pack one corset or two, which tutu goes best with the chosen corset.

“Why don't we just wing it?” she suggests. “Just head off and stop somewhere on the way.”

“What – not book a room?”

“We'll find somewhere.”

I'm not sure about this. “But it's a long weekend. These places, they're halfway places. They're very popular stopping points. What if we get there and everything is booked out?”

“You worry too much. I'm sure we'll find something. Worst comes to worse we can always set up the tent.”

I make a thinky face as I watch her pack her big stompy fluffy boots. She is being completely delusional about using the tent in transit because although we always say this, we have never done it. Setting up the tent once in a long weekend provides quite enough friction; twice is simply out of the question.

“Okay,” I shrug casually. “Fine. Cool. We'll wing it and see what happens.” I am not convinced that this is a good idea.

And sure enough, we cruise through the first halfway place after several hours of driving and the entire town appears to be made of No Vacancy signs. Parking lots are full of cars while weary travellers enjoy cold beer in the pub, settling in for a night of pizza and telly. We don't say anything to each other as I gun it out of town heading for the next halfway place. I wanted to avoid night driving but it's looking like that isn't going to happen.

Two more halfway places, both full. Nothing is available and now it's fully dark.

“Why did we do this?” I lament. “These towns – they're where everyone stays halfway along. People probably booked their cosy hotel rooms days ago. We could have done the same. And if they weren't booked, people have already pulled over and taken the last available rooms. Why oh why didn't I listen to the little voice?”

“The little voice?”

“The little voice! The one that knows things. I should always listen to the little voice. The little voice is always right about everything.”

“How is it,” the little voice asks, “that you can so readily admit that I'm always right, yet you constantly choose to ignore me?”

“You stay out of this,” I blurt.

“What?” The Dreaded One asks.

“I was talking to the little voice.”

In the end we drive for almost an hour inland to a much larger town where there is more chance of finding accommodation because these shitty little towns along the main route are, well, shitty little towns. This town turns out to be a shitty big town, but it's late and at least there is a hotel room, beer, pizza and telly.

Will I listen to the little voice next time? Probably not.

Grumpy is freelance writer Lee Bemrose (leebemrose@hotmail.com). He suspects he will never learn.

New Psycle, New Year, New Pants

Hello and welcome to 2010. Wonder what this year will be like. For me, it's already off to a better start than the last couple of years.

Christmas day was fun. Had a couple of friends around for turkey, wine and nonsense. The day is a bit of a blur now but it was a lot of fun. The moment I remember most clearly was when I decided that it would be an awesome idea to light the entire box of sparklers at once rather than going through the packet one at a time. I was half joking when I made the suggestion but a friend, Lizzie, whipped her lighter out so damn fast I knew there was no going back. I'm not sure what I was expecting but what I got was a hand-held solar flare. It was blindingly bright and really quite hot. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to take the sparklers out onto the balcony. Unfortunately our inflatable wading pool is also out on the balcony... was out on the balcony.

We managed to get a late night soak in the pool before it completely deflated. The Dreaded One was a bit pissed that not only did I break the pool but I also used up all the sparklers in a nanosecond AND she didn't even see it all happen.

Anyway, much merriment was had with the last of our guests leaving at about 5am. It was then that we realised how loud the music had been. Boxing Day was very sleepy.

Filled in the next few days hanging out with my spiritual kid sister. Had lots of laughs, played tennis and a fun game called Connect 4. I think I've got the tennis bug again... except that both of us got pretty sunburned and my knee is doing weird things, which could be a result of stomping at the New Year's dooof or when I took a pretty hard fall on the rocks on the dry river bed.

Ah, the doof. The directions I printed out were next to useless but we found our way there anyway. We've been to the site twice before but it was stilll difficult to remember details. We were greeted at one of the inner gates by the owner of the property who knew the rain was going to make the roads tricky when leaving and had spent all day laying hay in the muddier sections. He was covered in mud and gave the car a glance (family station wagon and not the 4 wheel drive we should have been driving) and said, "You're all totally fuckin' mad. I hope in fuckin'rains and yers get stuck her for a fuckin' week. Look at me, eh? Covered in shit... looks like I've been sleepin'with the fuckin' pigs, eh?" Lloyd is actually a really nice guy (who believes his property is inhabited by yetis and frequently visited by UFOs).

There were a lot of good friends at the party. The music leading up to midnight was pretty diabolical - a puffed up MC and dub step and drum n bass... yes yes my loathing of both styles of music is well acknowledged but it wasn't just me. The dancefloor was devoid of energy with a handful of stragglers wandering around wondering what the hell was going on. The MC was probably fine and in another time and place with another crowd the music might have gone down well but it was not what this particular crowd wanted. Proof was when they did the countdown to midnight and the psytrance came on the dancefloor was instantly rammed and jumping. Insto-energy. Suddenly, musically, everyone was having a great time.

Oh - back track a few hours. After setting up our tents by the river I sat down with my friend from Chicago. We met accidentally online and here were, somehow, sitting in the Australian bush having a beer. I just never thought it would happen. Hadn't considered it a possibility. I said words to that effect and it was a nice moment. Then a couple of dogs came thundering by over the moon with happiness at being dogs. It set me off on an imaginary dialogue about dogs being given the opportunity of being any other creatures but they just wanted to be dogs. DOGS! Ann later said she could hear my friend's resulting laughter off in the bush... a nice moment made nicer with laughter. (The dog thing willl be the subject of a Grumpy column, I feel).

Dancing in light rain all weekend. Various levels of intoxication. Couple of moments of drama that weren't needed but were unavoidable. Many hugs and a lingering appreciation of having good friends close by, friends who don't think twice about hugging you and voicing their feelings for you at random moments.

I had two wardobe malfunctions - I ripped the arse out of two pairs of pants in exactly the same place. Excellent work. Especially given that on one occasion I was going commando. Apologies to the beautiful warm and fuzzy friends who saw my fuzzy arse cheek.

The drive out was an hilarious adventure. Come back later for that one.

Meantime, hope you've had as good a start to the year as I have. Counting down the days to Rainbow Serpent. Hope 2010 is a good one.

Exodus & Rainbow Serpent '09 Road Trip

After covering 4,000 kilometres over three weeks and through three states, taking in two four day dance festivals, we're back. I think that qualifies as a road trip.

I don't know where to start, really. We really packed a lot in. So many laughs, so much dancing with friends, so many wonderful doof freaks. Heading out of Rainbow it was hilarious to call into the first service station and the place was swamped with doofers. The woman behind the counter looked like she didn't know what the hell was going on or why her very normal service station was suddenly inundated with so many strange people.

And I saw penguins at the Melbourne Aquarium. I like penguins.

Anyway, lots to tell, lots of photos to post, but later. I'm a bit shagged right now.

How have you been?

Gone to Exodus Cyber Tribal Festival

No more sleeps til road trip. I'm getting feral and tribal on my way to here. I'll probably pop online again in about a week from Byron Bay.

Road triiiiiiiip!

Oh Christmas Sticks, Oh Christmas Sticks...

Look - it's either a minimalist Christmas tree or it's Christmas sticks with baubles.

I think it's probably Christmas sticks, but to me it's a tree. Not quite the lush job some people came up with, but I kinda like it.

And speaking of holidays, I'm currently on one. Bought a ridiculously complicated tent with The Dreaded One on the weekend (complete with guest quarters and a west wing) and we hit the road in a couple of days. Up north for the Exodus four day dance festival, brief stop in Byron Bay, back down to Sydney hopefully to catch a couple of Sydney Festival performances before heading down to Rainbow Serpent a cou0ple of hours out of Melbourne for another four days of outdoor music and dancing.

My holiday reading? Instructions on how to set the tent up and how to make the camera work.

Rabbit Review, No Dice, And A Chat With Moira Finucane

Latest couple of things in Drum. I really enjoyed Rabbit. And I enjoyed talking to the No Dice guys. They were kind of warm and kooky.

I'm hoping to catch the No Dice show but I really am heading off for three weeks and don't know where my head's going to be at. I always get floaty and drifty when I do these road trips (more floaty and drifty than usual), so I don't know whether I'll be motivated enough to head back to Sydney to see theatre in the middle of a period of feral psytranceness.

Oh and I spoke to Moira Finucane from The Burlesque Hour this morning. Really lovely chat. She talked so much and answered so many questions without me getting to ask them, but she was great. I love such creative and passionate people. She mentioned an act that she does in The Burlesque Hour and the penny dropped that I had seen the first incarnation of the show. I kept recognising segments mentioned but thought maybe I had just seen the individual acts at different burlesque shows, but she mentioned this particular Victorian character (the period, not the Australian state) she does and I said hang on - did you do The Burlesque Hour at The Studio a few years ago?

I must have seen it because of 3D, mag I worked for at the time. I remember it as being a strange show, weird characters, off-kilter funny, sexy in a kinky kind of way. You just never knew what was going to happen next. You never knew what emotion was being pounded. Good stuff.

I knew I had seen her, just hadn't remembered that it was this particular show, albeit in an earlier form. See? Floaty and drifty.

Random Road Trip Part 1: The Dancefloor Warrior

Hello. I appear to be back. And I appear to have messed up this photo bit quite nicely. How unlike me. I'm hoping that if you click on them they will magically go big.


Anyway, here a few random shots of the first stage of our random road trip.

The horse playing the guitar is a very funny man called Dave (Daheen). He produces some very cool tracks... all quite political in an eco way but very dancefloor friendly and he keeps the mood up by putting on a different mask for each track. Very silly, very fun. There's also a shot of the mushroom headed mothwomen who were probably fairies and not moths. Either way, they were strangely sexy, as almost all doof chicks are. They were also a lot of fun.

There's a shot of The Dreaded One and me at some seaside port after Exodus, a dancefloor shot of the party (the psytrance stage was not the main one but it went off the most and by far had the most energy and colour... although this particular shot was taken when that dancefloor was not at its fullest).

And there is me sitting up high on a rock at Boonoo Boonoo Falls. I'm not sure why I look so concerned while in such an idyllic place... but then again that's the kind of person I am. Perhaps I was thinking that the view from up there was so pretty it hurts. Or perhaps I was just concerned about how much my ankle hurt after dancing so much. I think I stumbled into a bit of a dip in the ground and pulled a muscle. It hurt like buggery but I kept on dancing because I am a dancefloor warrior. It is only now returning to normal size, I have almost full mobility and the pain has almost gone. Just in time for Rainbow Serpent. We leave for that in a couple of days.

Anyway, hello.

Off The Rails

I was just asked to write a review of the last party I went to, Exodus Live. 330 word limit, have fun with it, kind of brief I like. Unfortunately I went a bit off the rails and had to stop because it's not going to be quite the review the mag will be expecting. Pity because I was on a bit of a roll, and it does actually capture something of the spirit of the thing. You can see the tone and style I was going for, but it's just a really good example of lack of discipline. Thought I may as well post it here because you might get a giggle out of it.

Right, back to a blank page for me...


Exodus Live Festival

With some unreliable background rumblings about the festival organisation changing hands, the big concern was whether this year’s Exodus was going to be as good as last year’s, which was the best Australian dance festival I had been to. Short answer? Yup, sure was. Slightly longer answer? Okay then... nasty hailstorm en-route, weather cleared to sunny with dribbly little showers, set up tent like the pro I am (ha), hit the dancefloor. Someone said something about the electro dome so I sauntered into what turned out to be the most twisted dance experience I’d ever... um, experienced. The music was crunchy and poppy and wonderfully fucked up... almost as fucked up as the lunatics I was dancing with. These guys were freaks. Later I asked my friends who had pointed the dome out to me what they thought. “Fucked if I was going in there,” was their reply, “it looked too scary.” Wandered past a packed children’s tent where a fully made up guy was telling a story to a crowd of enthralled children. Kids were lapping it up. Slept. Hit the dancefloor at 9am in time for Kolliope whose musical praises I will still be singing on my death bed. I loved their sweet melodies and glorious lyrics across an undeservedly empty dance floor (order of appearance was weird and tempo of acts needed to be more complementary) and through a sometimes patchy sound system. Later I introduced myself to Kolliope and enjoyed my favourite moments of the festival... Michelle called me an angel and she and Randolf gave me big cuddles just because I’ve written good things about them... aaaawe. Hit the psytrance stage and always, those guys had the sound sorted. Danced to some guy whose DJ antics resembled the international Eskimo, so when someone asked who the DJ was, I said Eskimo, even though I don’t think there was an international on the 100 plus line up. Psy stage was smaller than last year but the vibe every bit as electric... except when those freak-arse dogs attached themselves by their fun bits, not in traditional doggy style but rear-end to rear-end, in the middle of the dancefloor and looked really bored with the hour or so of attention they were getting. It was bizarre. They were stuck like a couple of Leggo blocks. Some wigged out guy thought pouring cold beer on the attached bits was the solution. Another guy thought he could pick one dog up and revolve it like a corkscrew. Fortunately a giggling kind of common sense prevailed and everyone just let them wait until whatever was supposed to happen happened while we pointed and laughed. It was fucked up... and pretty damn funny. If you were there, you know what I mean. If you’re that totally sick chick who took the photo, please forward it to me – mine didn’t turn out so well. Got some food. Guy was charging guys $1 more than he was charging the girls for the same meals. Next year, Falafel Man, I will have my vengeance *shakes fist at Falafel Man and plots vengeance*

(It's here that I realised I was hopelessly off the rails and had to abort).

Back

Back. Tanned. Tired. Story ideas still keep blooming in my mind. Still feel like I'm driving. Covered about 3,700km for two parties. If I had my way I'd be adding another 2 - 3,000 on to take in Rainbow Serpent next week as well. But I don't have my way. There's a treadmill to jump on, even though I just wanna be a gypsy. Maybe one day I'll ditch this treadmill thing.

Back with more tomorrow when I am more coherent... then again I have a real world to get back to as well as ideas for a novel, a short story collection and a children's book to get on with.

Orgy And Drug People

Too much has happened to get it all down now, but I am bursting with stuff to write about. Just an account of getting to the party and the party itself is going to make for some (hopefully) good reading. And I have a stack of fiction ideas too. Maybe even a novel, and the energy to throw myself into a novel. It's been a blast.

But following on from the previous post... we stayed at the same motel after Exodus and the orgy lady said they were really busy. "I don't know what's going on for this time of the week. I think there must be a huge drug party on somewhere."

Standing there unshaven, sunburned and sore from dancing for three days, still wearing my party wrist band, dribbling mushroom tea, syringes hanging out of my arms, a shtoopie hanging from my lips, acid-snakes oozing from my pores as I sweated pure A-grade heroin with pockets bulging with mescalin, I looked at her through my bloodshot, pin-prick eyes and felt kind of sheepish...

Orgy People

Am in Byron for a couple more hours before heading to Exodus Live in Tenterfield. Roughing it again for a few days of party mayhem.

Get this though - spent the night in a cute little motel. Woke up to a gorgeous Byron day of sunshine, pleasant humidity, the buzz of holiday in the air. Showered, started moving our stuff back into the car, and the hotel lady (sweet 60-ish year old) bumps into us and greets us not with a "good morning" or "nice day", instead she smiles sweetly and says in her nice 60-ish year old voice, "Have you been to an orgy?"

What the hell is that all about?