Boats and hoes

Ah, scare-mongering to back Abbott's embarrassing affront on Putin? Gotta have the Aussie connedtingent knowing Russia is a Bad Guy. Gosh, we must have pissed a lot of people off if it's not just the Islamics who want to reign blood.

Meanwhile...

Paprika

And those who I adore most in my life are the strangest, the wildest, the loveliest. Those who are not afraid of their own hearts.

Networks at work

Send in the troops, you have full support. A scared population is of course more obedient. It seems that the hate minute has worked a treat!

Title lyrics taken from Rage Against The Machine - Wake Up

Halal

Because I like making memes.
Because I don't like propaganda-fuelled bigotry.

Travel Hunger

Take me back.
Take me anywhere.

It's a different type of yearning, this wanderlust thing.

Laminatrix

Your challenge should you choose to accept; to remain compassionate whilst holding your colours as you wade through the muddy waters.

Blue Sky Action

Recently I have become increasingly aware of the lack of enthusiasm showed by others for well, everything in general. What is the cause of this dulling of the senses to all but the mundane, or worse? Such a terrible waste of one's heart and all that they have to offer.

"Joy should be a state of normality" - Reese Krause

This lightness and brightness is my default disposition. It's such a beautiful place to be, relishing in my own peace. I endeavour to always take the time and effort to ensure this remains the case. It's one of the reasons I so love being me.

The General Electric

"... 'cause creativity's a fucking weird one. You have to: a) set up the fucking space to be able to receive the information; b) create the space in your mind to receive the information; and c) have the fucking will to do it in the first place."

Jon Toogood (Shihad) as quoted by Andrew McMillen in Talking Smack: Honest Conversations About Drugs

M&Ms

Always living with a lack of concurrency, I surprise myself when I care about things that somebody of my nature typically does not. For example, I claim I am not racist, but the laundry basket shows a different side. As far as wash day is concerned, it's all about Apartheid!

Petrichor

Inspired and longing, she reaches into the abyss and still, she finds nothing. For it is just beyond her reach; loaded with a passion and conviction unforeseen, awaiting the perfect moment to return.

Fight Club

It happened to me today, the wind was knocked right out of my sails. I fought back tears of disappointment and fury over something quite petty in the scheme of things but Oh! So unjust!

This is the kind of problem that seems to arise for me when I suspect, but don't expect what the negative outcome may be (possibly a side-effect of inherent positivity?) After crawling under the covers to hide, I realised that it was necessary to use this moment wisely - to question why I was so upset. So offended! Is it an issue of true authenticity that resounds with what I am about? Or is my pride a little bruised and ego maybe bashed? These markers can help me check my direction, this can only be a good thing.

Rhythm of My Life

Eat it up! There is something so restrainedly  inner-city about this, of bright lights and a beckoning hubbub - an evocation that always puts a spring in my step. And of course the track opens as a cover of one of my most loved childhood trash tracks before continuing into another nineties' dance classic. Genius.

Single Malt

In recent times I have been quick to discount music lending to chill out (providing it is not electronica). I acknowledge that an artist/song/genre might be fantastic, but who has time to just sit in the parlour and listen? Now that my current schedule allows many a delightful moment to savour, I am enjoying the relaxed vibe all over again. So much.

The Karnivool Way

A stunning rendition of an already excellent track. Ian Kenny's voice is simply awe-inspiring.



When it comes to tackling other people's songs, Karnivool seem to be always en pointe - their version of Sleeping Satellite may well be my favourite cover of all time. Special mention also goes to their superb rock re-work of Gotye's masterpiece, The Only Way. Just when I was concerned my love for The 'Vool was waning, I type these words of praise rapid fire and realise that is not the case at all! 

I caved in, ran out of miracles

Some days I am so charged with passion and vigour that I look to my future challenges as an adventure. It may not be a trek through the Himalayas but it is of much higher altitude and this is one thing I am Sherpa at.

Title lyrics taken from Balance and Composure - Reflection 

Burn all the wreckage and start it over

How refreshing to hear a decent rock track on the radio. This was the icing on what was already a delightful Saturday!

Lumbricina

A fresh cup of sunrise, a shiny new day. There is something so special about the quiet before the world wakes up.

Stand by soldiers, run by night

If I had to choose one genre closest to my heart, it might well be Heavy Progressive Rock.



Australians have a unique flavour and COG were definitely one of the forerunners when this sound was popular. Their first album, The New Normal is a favourite record of mine, a head-to-toe work of excellence and political mayhem. This song in particular often gets lodged in my head and I think it is fantastic easy listening from one of our best.







Lyrics taken from COG - Resonate 

Bali Party

How interesting that all of a sudden Bali is getting some bad press. Could it be a coincidence that we are experiencing tensions with the Indonesian Government regarding offloading our asylum seekers? That said, I find it refreshing one of the more popular holiday destinations among Australians is finally getting some heat. I am tired of rolling my eyes when pounded with incessant questions regarding how I felt about my safety when I was in India. 

Awake

So I just stumbled across this in the side panel on youtube. Why has nobody told me about this guy? It's love.

Patriotism

Amateur left-wing politicisms aside, I have intense Aussie Pride when it comes to the wonderful world of music. How unbelievably awesome would it have been to be at Coachella when Flume dropped this delicious remix of Lorde's Tennis Court? And although Lorde is from New Zealand, she has such a massive (and well-deserved) following in Australia that I feel excited for the world to be treated to her talents also.

Morsel

Tempo

I am enjoying learning how to spend time all over again, and it is truly delightful, and somewhat baffling. It's slowly coming back to me, this learned Art of Chilling.

Under the bright sky

I bang on about this a bit too much, but the sky here really is an amazing thing. It's endless depth and graduation of blue with dramatic plumes of grey and white cloud in infinite shapes and sizes. I could never tire of it.

Pakora

So you dive in and realise that you can't swim. Awkward! You're in the water now so walk, paddle, whatever, just get to the other end. Then maybe get some swimming lessons.

We were always at war with Eurasia

I have a question and you're not going to like it. I wish for it to be answered honestly and succinctly but I am too afraid to ask in fear of absolute and ruthless persecution, no matter how earnest my curiosity or how carefully I construct my query.



I mean not to denigrate those who fought for our freedom, I simply wish for these freedoms to be defined and to have explained in layman's terms how Australia being involved in a particular situation resulted in the way of life that we enjoy today. I throw a handful of variants of my simple question at Google to be given only the occasional article or blog post annihilating any left wing view the new wave anti-ANZACs apparently have. I scour these tidbits not because I resonate with either side of the story, but in an effort to seek out a well-rounded answer.

The word FREEDOM is so heavily bandied about and I find only evangelistic praise for past and present frontline efforts, with complete disregard to the why. What were we doing there? And what was it within these actions that gave us this FREEDOM?

Please do not assume that I am not moved by this chapter of our country's history and the tragic sacrifices that were made abroad and on our home soil, our men and all men. As a particularly hypersensitive human being, such sobering historical events are wracked with feelings of sadness and regret. This is why I cannot blindly buy into a culture I see to be subliminally breeding a war mentality, to stand up and salute this with stuff upper lip, no ifs or buts. I want us to learn from our past and make informed choices about so-called national security, to question what we are told is right and look to how we can do better in the face of what seems to be unrelenting international tension.

Call me naive. I am more than somewhat ignorant; but here I am, begging for an education that's all-encompassing and not a hot-headed lecture for being churlish. Should open minds entertain such a discussion it could become an interesting if not delicate debate. Both parties might walk away with a new as well as renewed respect for Australia's pyrrhic, pivotal first major encounter with war.

Title taken from George Orwell's 1984.

Elections

Of all the blues one could have, post travel blues are definitely the best!

Fancy

The residual inspiration from my travels, coupled with a timely desire for a wardrobe update has resulted in an insatiable hunger for fashion! When I'm not fantasising about a world free of food additives and greed-driven conflict, I'm imagining myself with choppy Alexa Chung hair and an account at Nieman Marcus!

TL4L

[The Good] [The Bad] [The Ugly] 

The endless hours reading books, drinking tea, watching the world go by. That feeling of always being in motion, that you're going somewhere. Forced leisure time - playing cards, just hanging out with your companion, hashing out outlandish ideas and serious topics and all things in between. Seeing a bright and beautiful slash of landscape quickly dance before your eyes before you are whisked into a tunnel as black as night, never quite knowing if such a vista was real. Sitting up well into the early hours, looking out for city lights, listening to metal to combat the cacaphonic chorus of apneic snores.  It's the people watching. Making small talk with the locals, relying more heavily on gestures and tone than actual words, because as the resident Westerner you are now their esteemed English teacher. Food is in plentiful supply, although the challenge lies in deciphering which local delicacies are fit for Caucasian consumption! The rails are rough, the stops infuriatingly drawn out, and it can be hard to find peace and quiet when everybody is spitting and shaving. If the stink of cigarette becomes too much, check out the restrooms, they'll be sure to take your mind off things. Yes, you are certainly in the thick of the very version of humanity and the culture that you came to see. What look like modest bunks, are instead ringside tickets to the domestic travel circus!

All these reasons and more are why I love this mode of long distance transport. It's true. Sleeper trains run raucous, rusty, beautiful tracks through many of my fondest travel memories. 

Sugar Rush

Perhaps it was kicked off by my Grimes discovery, perhaps it's simply due to the over-saturation on the market right now, but for a while I have been steeped in a resurgent love of overly-sweet sounding female vocal driven pop. Think 90s alt-bubblegum like Headless Chickens' track Cruise Control given a sonic makeover with today's production and predilection for dance. Whatever, but I cannot get enough of it! Below is a prime example, a song I am stupendously obsessed with right now.

 

A Scape

I was quite late to the party with this song. My ears pricked up whilst suffering through an horrific ordeal - the ghastly Goan hangover - and force-feeding myself Fashion TV in a feeble attempt to lift my spirits. The strains of this track then plagued me for weeks! I was racking my brains, knowing no lyrics but with the knowlodge that yes, I had heard it before, yes it had been played on Triple J at some stage. It became an unofficial anthem for my travels, a perfect soundtrack to every beautiful landscape, or experience. It leaves me feeling completely and utterly nostalgic and has been locked in as one of my favourite songs ever. 

Wistful

It's a strange feeling, this being home thing. Part of me feels as though I never left. It is this part that is itching to go - to run, not away, but to simply run.  

Acronyms

The longer I spend in this country the stronger the mix of emotion. Do I love it? Do I hate it? It's an inexplicable blend of Cabin Fever meets Stockholm syndrome. I cannot bear to leave, I cannot wait to leave. As I cross the border into Nepal will I breathe a sigh of relief or feel pangs of sadness? At this stage, most likely both, simultaneously.

Triple J Hottest 100, 2013

After all my raving and ranting, I managed to lodge a vote in the world's biggest music democracy without too much further ado.


Behold:

Chvrches - Recover
Disclosure ft. AllunaGeorge - White Noise
Goldroom - Embrace
London Grammar - Hey Now
Lorde - Royals
The Naked and Famous - Hearts Like Ours
The Occupants - I've Been Thinking
Rüfus - Desert Night
Skrillex - The Reason
Thief - Broken Boy


Now if only Mumbai was holding some kind of awesome Triple J party of Australian proportions on my favourite day of the year!

Insomnia

I wake up and it becomes instantly apparent; still in India. I know this because I am lying on a bed that feels like a wooden plank punching me in the kidneys, resting on a pillow with about as much yield as day old naan bread. This is like camping in a hotel room, I would be better off on the floor with only a yoga mat for support.

If there was one thing that could slowly drive me crazy, eventually make me snap and send me packing on the next flight home it would be these long, sleepless nights. I am already tossing and turning thank you to the evil anti-Malaria medication, pity I cannot roll over without procuring an all but enviable collection of bruises.

Everything else I can handle. We have been mobbed, pickpocketed, molested. We've had Delhi belly, gotten on a bus we're not sure is heading in the right direction after paying money to a man who doesn't speak English, been reduced to drinking tap water. All fine and dandy, child's play. It's what you sign up for when you visit India. But this?? I could wrestle with my backpack right now, break into a hotel with wifi, book an airline ticket...

And then I remind myself that this is adventure, and a good night's sleep was never in the fine print.

Radio Uh-Oh

That awkward moment when I don't feel totally great about compiling my vote for the Hottest 100.

Usually it's a mammoth task that I attack zealously with equal parts enthusiasm and studious dedication but this year my heart is not in the game. It was too easy to bang together a list of songs that I don't feel is particularly strong. There are some gems of course, and perhaps I simply didn't clock up enough listening hours to appreciate just what was on offer but I am just not bristling with excitement this time around. Either I have changed or music has or a little bit of both and this saddens me. And I am running out of time!

Wanderlust

How does one assimilate with ordinary life after living in such a fashion? Do you long for dusty roads, foreign foods you cannot pronounce and faces unfamiliar? Does life seem a little lacklustre, a little too comfortable after going from technicolor electrocution of culture to having somewhere real to rest your head?

Iddly

You learn the hard way - racing toward dappled shade in a state of emergency - you should have stayed indoors! The daylight hours become slow, peeling back upon one another until the heat has worn even itself out. With signs of human life slowed to an all but imperceptible pulse, only vital signs remain. Time wears on below the unrelenting sky as wilted vegetation and sunbleached buildings beg for mercy until at last, Finally! shadows begin to lengthen. You greedily gulp deep breaths before the air stills and humidity casts its sticky oppression over nightfall.

Congratulations! You have survived another day in a tropical heat that takes no prisoners. Welcome to South India.

Bus Terminal

Sometimes you can cross the boundaries of communication - conversations that are broken down into nods and smiles, appreciation for street-side omelettes, comparing of biceps. It's moments like these that make you wonder how it all went wrong. This Us and Them; this big, bad world? On this humid Keralan night, we have done away with language. We have fresh chai and head waggles. Humanity prevails.

Satsang

"The greatest religion is to be true to your own nature. Have faith in yourselves!"

- Swami Sivananda

Fleetwood

Well guess what. I still shower daily, wash my hair more frequently than I did back home and yes, I have shaved my legs every week since I have been on the road. I brought my favourite jeans and my hair straightener along for the ride and I did not purchase any ridiculous zip-off pants or succumb to tie-died Ali Babas! It's challenging living out of a backpack, when it is cold I get to layer everything I own which is novel but somewhat unstylish. A lukewarm shower is an amazing feat of Indian modernity, however I bemoan the constantly wet floor more than the shivering scrub-downs squatting under a tap. The beds are persistently hard and the pillows offer no relief, strangely slumber comes best from the clickety-clack of a sleeper train. When food tastes this good, brace yourself - you are liable to shed the extra pounds as quickly as you gained them.

As you might deduce, travel is an exciting, though not particularly glamorous affair. This does not mean that one has to give in to "backpacker fashion" and follow all those silly rules. Minimalist pack if you wish, but remember that you might like to live a little. Go your own way.

Bells

There is no need to fear those clouds; they'll bring the rain to wash it all away. Once the air is cool you will notice that everything is shiny and new again. Always welcome a change in the weather.

Learning to Live Without a Sink

He lives in a mud hut, next to the plot he toils. A simple farmer happy just to wake up to a rural outlook and freshly baked chapatti. Electricity and running water are for those flashy city types, after all. With our Western vision we have this displaced notion that the have-nots need access to all the things that we cannot live without; yet something disarming in his broad smile - like many I have encountered across the countryside - tells me otherwise.