Musings from the 13th Floor (Mezzanine)

Roman calendar originally was determined by the cycles of the sun and moon.

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Mon, 08 Nov 2004 22:55:00 +0000

Hello and welcome to....Mo-Vember* aka November, also know as Ho-vember, see also month which dutifully follows Rock-tober. Yes its a free for all. Corporations, practical jokers and radio funny men alike have taken to the re-naming of our lunar calendar like a fat kid to a cake.

I have to admit its a pretty delicious notion - I mean why maintain the ancient Roman Calendar anyway - its not like Julias Ceaser and his merrier orgiastic Empire were all that special right? I mean sure they sorted transportation, sanitation, entertainment and alike, but the Calendar who needs it. We work on our own time in the 21st Century.

*Mo-vember: a month dedicated the growing of a "tache" so many choices.

I'll miss you rock_tober

Mine is Pink

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Mon, 25 Oct 2004 10:22:00 +0000

IKEA. Bloody hell what a brilliant concept.
Its good. My word is it good, you can pick up knives and forks for $12 bucks, tables in a variety of metrosexually acceptable colours for $29 bucks (mine is pink), and door mats for under $6.

The genius however lies not only in the affordability of the pseudo Swedish gear, but also in the design of the store. Picture me , a vision of capitalist Australia, wearing my imported Brazilian thongs, overpriced Tshirt, a credit card neatly tucked into my shorts pocket. I've come to buy a lamp - "sweet lamps are in aisle????" - but there are no aisles - no- lets not be able go where we bloody well want. Lets set off on an Ikea parade weaving its way from lounge suites, to kitchen via bedding through a virtual crowd of eye catching euro-esque designed bargains. Its so damned Scandi that despite the 33 degree heat outside I found my thoughts recoiling to the safety of a mind powered sauna where they spent the next 40 minutes talking BMW's with a fat naked guy and 2 busty blonde clones.

Arriving finally at the inevitable conclusion - cash registers. I came for a lamp. I leave with a pink table, 20 bulbs, a bath mat, 12 pieces of cutlery called 'DFUNKT' and a swivel chair that will be like building lego for +5's that I now have to piece together. (all of which costs less than my weekly food bill)

I love Ikea - so does my credit card...Its already told me what it wants for x-mas..

Air Guitar, Hairspray and a Dopey Smile - The Life & Times of Andrew G

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Thu, 14 Oct 2004 06:27:00 +0000

Andrew G...

Why do i hate thee?

Fellow who makes many 14yr old girls happy on channel V

Your insipid smile, cheeky grin, styled stubble, or blow dried locks,

Oz Idol real TV job.... you're top of the pops

So anyway he won "Cleo Bachelor of the Year"...

Andrew G's acceptance speech (grinning inanely - with one of those big plastic cheques for $10K in his hand) ".......wow..what a surprise...As there are so many guys {referring to fellow studdly competitors) here who spend so much more time in the gym than me......"

What should have happened next - 20 really massive gym buffed animals swash buckle the stage and beat Andrew G to a pulp....

Sure Andrew G, but not nearly as much time in front of a mirror having their hair treated, teased, blow dried...etc etc.etc.

PUNK

Magic - Does it really happen?

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Thu, 07 Oct 2004 04:44:00 +0000

Inspired into thought as many of us are by the wondrous gems of human truth which adorn some drivers' bumpers. I have often wondered at my favourite "magic happens" - truth be told i do consider myself a spiritual fella, I mean I read the Celestine prophecy once upon a time, smoked pot and inhaled, I have visited the Crystal castle in Byron Bay, hell I even have a soft spot for dolphins...but no revelations to date - so bearing that in mind does magic really happen....?

Its an amazing notion to behold... Magic - popular culture loves it, think Harry Potter, David Copperfield and other pseudo magic stuntmen like David Blane. Basically a bunch of commercial magic tinged hacks- not a magic potion or staff amongst em. Its sure as shit nothing the likes of magic that made the hard ass battle scarred knights of ye olde round table quake in their steel boots... Take that harry...

Anyway what's my point - Magic Shmagic
Peace Love & Pragmatism.

Blanky, Blanky..

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Mon, 13 Sep 2004 09:16:00 +0000

deserved of an entry... but i feel cruel.
I dedicate this entry to my favourite fool.

Cats.... are everywhere

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Mon, 13 Sep 2004 08:03:00 +0000

Outrage -

The Cat Empire - well they must have had some pretty grandiose notions to take on a name like that… just imagine, 10 or 50 (probably stoned students), sipping tea, playing Uno and talking philosophy in a café somewhere, listening to John Mayer CD's..."hey we're so artsy, and have heaps of friends - lets start a hip-hop/jazz/reggae/Left wing/pop band!!". And they were born – 10 or 50 blind little kittens all scrapping to get their collective pink mouth onto the lucrative teats of the Australian music buying public.

In a fortnight where skinny, naked cats have haunted the email airwaves, and my inbox is a mess with "pussy jokes" haha, the Cat Empire is slowly, surely and ridiculously gaining popularity. Even as I type, kids who would well advised to be out there buying up Michael Jacksons' back catalog, (before he is put to jail for ever!!, are being corrupted- their poor little ears infected with the poppy diatribe of acts like Darren Hayes, Shannon Knowles and of course the evil Cat Empire themselves.

Its not like music was better when I was a kid - hell no. Fortunately, I myself have managed to overcome the hurdles present in my own musical growth phase, I have learned to suppress the icky sentimentality those years of abuse by Abba and the Carpenters did to the nostalgic nodes of my own brain.

Yes and I can now afford the luxury of laughter - because I know where you, the Cat Empire belong… Indeed, back in your acrid Litter box.

A story I wrote for a Sydney Radio Station, and which will never be printed, beacuse its too esoteric

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Fri, 06 Aug 2004 04:27:00 +0000

Days of our FBi lives

Welcome to Days of Your FBi lives where we’ll be taking glimpse into a day in the life of 3 FBi listeners. Here are their stories;

8AM on Sydney’s Far North Shore Dawn, a smooth dressing 20 something Internet advertising executive, is a pin-striped blur as she scampers from café to car. Brandishing a Café latte she is every bit a picture of rushed professionalism. It’s only when pulling away from the curb into the bumper to bumper madness that subtle cracks begin to show in her smooth corporate demeanor. Her frustration increasing, it’s a car bearing a faded Triple M bumper sticker whose excessive lane changing threatens to push her over the ragged edge today. Suddenly as if awakening from a carbon monoxide slumber Dawn lunges for the stereo - instantly the voice of “that chic that does the early morning shift” - Jess Keeley replaces the cacophony of commuter chaos - gently transporting Dawn from the smog of Drive time to an ever more desirable FBi tinged ambience. For Dawn FBi is “Better than coffee… assists in keeping road-rage at bay”

At a decent hour and across the bridge in the Eastern suburbs the young and devastatingly attractive Chrissie, 23, has once again risen late as if the way of a student and is late for class. Oblivious to the outside world and lost in a bubble of radio bliss, her vessel is suddenly and violently interrupted by the snarling sub sonic vibrations of a fellow motorist. Her initial shock is further compounded by the realization that her world is being invaded by the bubble gum pop unleashed on her by a virtual armada of subwoofers, midranges and tweeters and worse still is soon followed by “shamelessly plugging of crappy products and lame-arse jokes” – as the decibels wash over her like the foul breath of a prehistoric monster her musically discriminating ears recoil. Finally the offender pulls away taking its cargo of bleating pop and inane chatter with it and leaving Chrissie with her sometimes minty and always discerning FBi; what that means to her is “No bullshit! Just chilled, easy listening, at all hours of the day”

Later that evening Harry a 27 year old documentary producer, is in a buoyant mood having recently received accolade for his work on ‘The Lives of Hungarian Squirrels’ an original masterpiece where that he had to live in a Hungarian wood for six months. Entering his home he expunges the squirrels from his thoughts and flicks on the stereo. With about an hour to kill he tunes into FBi hoping to catch his favorite FBi show “Crate Diggers”. Tonight’s show is dedicated to the relatively unknown Electronic sub-genre Vox-Yodel, a musical style which he discovered whilst back-packing through the Austrian Alps some years ago, and an experience he considers life changing. Later still… and satisfied that his passion for Vox-Yodel was a brief and misguided youthful phase - best forgotten, Harry heads out – along with “how great crate diggers was”, oddly Alvin the Chipmunk and a bunch of Yodeling Squirrels fill his thoughts…

Thanks to…the volunteers

Girls in hats

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Sun, 25 Jul 2004 08:19:00 +0000

Honestly I have always had a major thing for girls in glasses - i'm not really sure why, but a woman lookijng at me behind a two small squares of perfectly curved glass causes me to go me weak at the knees... perhaps its the tiniest possibility I could make her steam up that holds so much erotic promise??..... of better still i think its that extra dimension that makes it so sexy - -

anyway to all the four- eyed beauties every where...rock on.

Oh and i saw a beautiful girl in a hat on Friday.. hats are good too.

Good Tunes

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Wed, 14 Jul 2004 01:02:00 +0000

Royal Groove > Home of Funk, Soul & Jazzmusic

ooh yes.. you gotta love some really smooth jazzy tunes on a Wednesday morning. Makes me feel like I'm chillin on a spring day somewhere. Anywhere but this Mezzanine overlooking some ugly rooftops on a winters day.

Oh and while i'm here - Anyone notice how bad a large bellied man looks in suit? Why does this bother me? I think its because suits are the most gentlemanly attire we males can aspire to get our bits into - and quite frankly its an insult to all of us when a man with a beer fed belly looks like he could stand in a park on a summers day and rival the shade like a willow tree by simply buttoning his jacket.

perhaps some radical designer type will take note - and create a more appropriate Fat man cloth that allows the corporate fatty to avoid being mistaken for botany and still hold his head high - perhaps a hybrid Kimono/Paul smith pinstripe....

Look out Morrissey

Thugs Bullies and Cowards

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Mon, 12 Jul 2004 04:00:00 +0000

Sick sick sick,...
In the wake of a close friends experience I am appalled at what a violent world we have at our door steps. It may not be the gun toting US of A but a healthy undertone of violence and aggression propagated by fear and dealt out by insecure morons exists in my city and its sad..

What type of insecure, pathetic and animalistic individual would find it necessary to physically accost a female - A girl who is mind you doing her best to fend off the unwanted advances? The result; some pucked out little Tupac wannbe her so as not lose face in front of his comrades. Upon witnessing this, my friend intervened only to himself be assaulted by not one but three persons - resulting in amongst other things his head being split open.

Thinking about these people I cannot begin to imagine how weak, lost, emotionally crippled and utterly pathetic they must be.. Like a pack of hyenas picking on a weakened prey they act in groups with extreme cowardice and without conscience. What make them so void of care for other people?

I don't have those answers. But I really do hope is that the old adage that "the wheel comes full circle" is true because if that's the case then these ass holes have a road train of 18 wheeled pain headed straight for their pathetic doors.

As for my friend - he's Ok; Apart from the sutures & pain – it’s the mending for the loss of trust in people and outside world that I hope will heal as quickly as his blackened eye

The wrong side of the tracks

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Thu, 01 Jul 2004 02:12:00 +0000

I live a blessed life. It has been said (mostly by my mum). But maybe it takes a shitty experience on a train to make one realise she's right.

So maybe I've been spoiled but that has little or nothing to do with my harboring of a healthy dislike for certain elements of mass public transportation. Perhaps it's the potential for contracting an evil virus or warts or maybe its the lack of personal space which affords one too much time to regard a fellow passengers pimple..a combination of all three perhaps?

Lets take the bus for example ... smelly and useless, a bus provides what can be described as a faulted and pause infused journey. A journey that so often begins waiting in a collective and somber group of commuters, a group not unlike in appearance to a pack of daft penguins all looking oft toward a distant horizon. And, where less like the sunset enjoyed by our arctic friends buses come and go at will, seemingly working to a timetable that is only comprehensible to those with Einstein-esque mathematical abilities, or smarter penguins.

My main inspiration for this post however comes not with the waiting, which is undoubtedly irritating, but more the ferocious attitude exhibited by my fellow commuters...This week where I have caught the trains I have experienced aggression and underhanded tactics the likes of which would better be placed in a bar room brawl - you know who you are - It seems that people will stoop to new lows all over a 2.5M space that is conveniently placed between train door and your 50% stake on an escalator stair.

on that note - the life of a daft, sun gazing penguin is looking all the more attractive.....

AR - reporting from the Arctic

The Burger King

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Wed, 23 Jun 2004 23:48:00 +0000

Addendum to previous notes on JT concert..

Proud of my JT experience I have been gingerly interweaving it into conversations here and there over the past week and have been suprised by the number of people I know who also attended the concert. What has been most interesting peoples reactions to what would outwardly appear to be an inocuous pop show. None more interesting than the observations of a particularly astute advertisig industry colleague - who noted that the JT had actually managed to subliminally integrate the MacDonalds "I'm lovin it" tagline into the last 15 minutes of his show. JT evidently quietly coaxedthe line over and over again whilst intro'ing his band. I guess you have to give the golden arches their creds...on the one hand they appear to be on a media back foot - defending themselves against the public furor of childhood obesity and issues raised by 'Supesize' me, yet on the other very much forward footing - leveraging the incredible influence of a pop idol endrorsing 5,000 teenageers and and the few twenty-somethings to boot.

MacDonalds Shock and awe tactics..

king of pop

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Wed, 16 Jun 2004 23:09:00 +0000

so the media Gods looked kindly upon me again this week and offering me tickets to see the man of the bubble gum music hour. Mr Justin Timberlake. Initially I was hesitant - JT's album does not occupy a space on my CD shelf, nor does his likeness adorn my wall in glossy A3 sized glory...for that matter I have even been known to visibly cringe when tracks are radio broadcast. So i went anyway expecting a spectacle and who knows what...

So what did I learn?

1. JT can actually sing, play guitar and beatbox like a champion - thats said there are 3,000 disheartened teenagers who expected allot more gyrating for their $130 bucks
2. Lots of very young girls in very short skirts attend pop concerts (hooray for me)
3. Don't foolishly arrive 10 mins before show commences and think you are going to be allowed to stand in front of a rabid 5Ft teenage girl - who loves JT more then her own father and who probably queued in front of an empty stage from 6am that morning.

Note: Beer in plastic bottles should be avoided at all cost - refer to my current headache for further details.

Notes from the back of the ferry

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Fri, 11 Jun 2004 05:03:00 +0000

So.. i was sitting on a relatively empty ferry bound for my home last eve, and I caught myself staring. Now, its often that I have had a similar vantage point, but I guess I have never really looked really hard at what looms above the light blue head rests of our cities high speed water services.

what did I notice this evening were 'heads'. Not just any heads but Giant bloody heads. HUGE masses of skull and hair taken right from the scene's of a milliners worst nightmares.... And not just one or two mind you, we're talking 20 passengers of gargantuan proportion, 20 oddities aboard a merry, fucking, floating freakshow.

you might then as I did wonder - what does having a large head mean? I wondered (not aloud i hope) for I have a humble head, not small but a mere moon in this company. So I wondered; are these people capable of supersonically quick thought? or due to their cranial girth do thoughts indeed take longer to reach the appropriate synapse?...and therfore rattle about their head before a large 'Bing' sound is emanated indicating receipt of the thought. But no just is just plain silly..

... It was about then that Paranoia set in...What if I am the only small headed figure on this boat? and there by accident, and furthermore what if these freaks of nature have charted the vessel and I right this very moment are communicating via ESP about the intruding and very rude 'small headed guy'. These thoughts quickly moved onto a conspiratoral note - maybe there this is some radical large headed government - set to overthrow Clove Moore for the precious Darlinghurst Liberal seat.

At this point I insanely screeched "you'll never catch me you giant headed freaks" and leapt over board...

High Rolling - well kinda

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Mon, 07 Jun 2004 08:08:00 +0000

This sounds like the opening to a poorly written joke.. But, what do you get when you spend a weekend in the lap of luxury; flouting ordinary societal convention, gorging on mud crabs that could feed an small family, being chauffeur driven from one decadent location to another... well apart from the obvious benefits - I also managed to catch the flu again...this time hitting my coast with the ferocity of a tidal wave and leaving in its wake a trail of ruined homes and snotty tissues.

so beyond the melodrama - what did i learn from my weekend with the wealthy ? Millionaires & Playboys & hangers onner's (me).

What transpired this last weekend was one better than a fly on the wall experience, perhaps more akin to a fly in the soup experience. It was Twilight Zone -esque, like dream where someone has shifted the goal posts, but actually made them easier to score under. This new world thrives under a different set of societal rules where drinking, eating, gambling and lust are the basic pillars for existence, a place where even some hard and fast rules of fashion no longer apply.

My entourage were the type of men who behind closed doors happily cavort to the tunes of $47,000 Vegas binges, these fellows are personally greeted by Fidel Castro's staff on a cigar buying trip to Cuba. The same types who happily tip $10k to waitresses for smiling sweetly and providing a bottle of Coca-Cola. PIMPS in the millenial sense.

So what have i concluded after 3 days of vicariously living someone's else's life? Well I thank the gentlemen whose generosity i enjoyed, and the next time i suit up will at least always now consider the possibility of matching up my dark coloured suits with a tan pair of shoes. Who needs rules anyway.

Having a shot at winter

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Tue, 01 Jun 2004 06:51:00 +0000

So today is the first day of winter... and its gorgeous outside - Its the type of winters' day where one see's pretty girls roaming our fair streets in skirts - despite my expectation that every man, woman and some well maintained dogs are pretty much exclusively wearing wollen garments of some kind these days.

Anyway with winter, apart from wool - comes illness...yes each and every winter strange strains of influenza are somehow miraculously loosed upon the human race by some freakish ecosystic glitch - an unfathmoed meeting between sneezy moth and a butterfly in Siberia which goes onto infect a polar bear, who in turn eats a guy, and who is then eaten by some eskimoe like other guy...anyway by now this bug is a fully fledged cough/sneeze machine and more ferocious than all common colds recorded in history...its taken out an older aged pensioner in Budapest and the people in China are already buying up air particle maskes in their millions.

So what dear reader does that have to do with yours truly ?
Nothing really had a flu shot over the weekend...took my needle like a man...and asked for a lolly pop.

In yo face evil flu..I am safe from you this winter.

crazy 90's fashion

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Wed, 26 May 2004 06:38:00 +0000

So these 'crazy' dance pioneers from the 90's are getting together to throw some kinda homage to my adolescence ..... It involves a bunch of somewhat, probably old, dance music pioneer types, the KLF and CC music factory....yes they certainly were 'all that' back in the heady and awkward days of Year 7. When apart from having to avoid eye contact with rat tailed 15 yr olds who thought they were Vanilla Ice or some other flavour of corrupt ice cream, we danced like there was no tomorrow.

90's disco. A ferocious pantomime of male female wiles, music, smoking behind dumpsters and celebration of movement, a place where men were made men and women looked on mostly amused at the pants we wore.

Ahh yes memories...

The merits of Berocca.

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Wed, 19 May 2004 07:18:00 +0000

1. Contains a multitude of Vitamin B's - which are what our brains like for food hmmm yummy!
2. Produces fluorescent Urine. Hold on now. Many would no doubt be thinking 'hey, that there is sure negative'.
But - just imagine you were lost in the Arctic like that Argentinian Football team who ended up eating each other... If they had Berocca it would be a great way to write snow signals and maybe they could have avoided sizing one another up for lunch...

So anyway why was I thinking about Berocca - well its all because of an interesting chat I had with this semi-nut case about 2 weeks ago. I was doing some laboring with this fella and during a lunch break he bestowed this knowledge upon me. lnterlaced between lurid tales of sex in the back of his car, the incredible secrets, power and potency of Vitamin B were delicately revealed. Oh and it comes in Orange now too..

Food Courts

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Tue, 18 May 2004 05:20:00 +0000

...ahh yes food courts, the watering holes of this our urban plain. Where each midday - neon lights and grilled cheese draw flocks of 'worker types' from nearby 'buildings' in the hundreds in order to quench thirst and take upon a meager and often 'toasted' sustenance. All the while, they bask and feed under bright lights and are being sized up other bigger, unshaven, and often heavier species.

whilst all this is going on - Closed circuit television cameras monitor this dynamic scene, zooming in on the sometimes obscene displays of greed and deprivation, and more interestingly at the mating rituals displayed by those in heat. These are mostly males aged 35yrs+ typically easy to spot with thier puffed out chests, and poorly judged neck tie patterns, they scratch their crotches aiming to impress the female groups who huddle close together on the fringes of the court - coyly pretending not to notice the overt sexual advances of the larger, older males - to occasionally and intrepidly look up and catch the gaze of a younger, better tied buck, mostly however secreting with one another...And tittering about the aesthetics of rival females foot wear.

So life goes on the plains, and today is a good day.. For no-one falls foul to one of the ever vigilant hunters, or food poisoning....And the cameras keep on-a-whirring for a funniest home video is only a slip with a tray away.

be careful its wild worls out there

First thought

noreply@blogger.com (Preppy_One) — Tue, 18 May 2004 00:03:00 +0000

Why do birds continually have to shit on my nice clean car...?
They say its good luck to be shat on...For people right..Well my car is kind of an extension of me, so can I take the luck ...Then you have to wonder is it really good luck? Or am I simply some unfortunate, who always manages to find the spot under a particularly bountiful or sturdy tree...In a street where parking is like trying to find a seat in a food court each lunch day...

Either way it beginning to piss me off...