Wednesday, April 01, 2009

at least I still have my miniwheats.

As usual, here I stumble in; head hung, slouching, and full of half arsed apologies regarding the frequency of my updates. Oh! The updates that could have been, but never were! I can no longer recount! Tragedy! Drama! Foes! Vanquishment!

Some time ago when I was probably quite bored and on the curious side, I checked out the stats for this blog over a couple of years, and was tremendously surprised to find that I average an entry once a fortnight – not once a month, or indeed once in a fucking millennium as I would certainly have suspected in my recent updating history, but once a fortnight! Well! I thought to myself. Slack I am, and slack I can be! And since then, I’ve obviously never looked back.

That is, of course not entirely true. While I’m certainly on the unforgivable side of slack, let me recount to you by way of apology in a manner more or less completely ripped off the Good Author* of Well Done Fillet, what my life has been since we last met.

Since my last entry, I have:

Caught trams.
Not an exciting prospect in itself, no! But when you add a good handful of Brunswicks’ finest crazies to the mix, you just count the seconds down to sheer fucking insanity. In just three consecutive days, I’ve suffered a number of affronts to my dignity, nay!, my very person and property on these normally adequate trams.

One of the more notable incidents was a mentally ill (I hope) semi-elderly woman who… well… I’m not quite sure how to say this, but… assaulted me… with her rude bits.

There I was on a tram, sitting on the nanna seat up the front, when I was surrounded by elderly people refusing the offer of seat, instead choosing to glare in my general direction while coughing sick germs all over the place in that way only elderly people can. Oh look! You had toast for breakfast! Isn’t that just lovely? COVER YOUR FUCKING MOUTH.

Anyway, the tram is at capacity. I am studiously focusing on playing my DS, refusing to even begin to engage with the horrible and smelly world around me. I’m completely hemmed in by stubborn elderly. That is, until they start topping over like loud, smelly and very fucking angry bowling pins. People are shouting exclamations in more languages than I can recognise, and walking sticks are flying. Well, maybe just one, but none the less, commotion is afoot. I further refuse to engage in this strange game the listless elderly are playing.

They settle down, I did not think to perhaps examine why. Had I, I would have found right before me, a completely bonkers woman, surrounded by a ring of elderly doing everything they can to keep their distance, avoid eye contact, and by all means not engage the woman in speech. Oblivious to all this, I continued to play my game, occasionally considering that the person standing in front of me was falling on me rather a lot while the tram was jostling. That’s okay, I thought. Trams jostle, and not everyone is sure of foot.

More and more, I found myself justifying the woman’s constant bashing into me; however it reached a point – and I note this with quite some alarm - that I could no longer justify a damned thing. The woman was now straddling my leg, her entire weight it would seem, supported by her crotch on my knee. I froze, looking to my neighbours for help. Their expressions, I believe, reflected my own. They stared on in absolute horror, as the crazy woman made little to no effort to stand up, occasionally doing so only to end up right back where she started. I tried to wriggle away, but there was no room. People around me hurriedly offered her their seats, but she refused. Some old men even tried to jostle her away, but to no avail. There I sat, screaming on the inside, my sudoku game long forgotten. Eventually – and I doubt I will ever say this again – a pram came to my rescue. The woman had no choice but to move on the presentation of a pram into our little commute of horrors, and the woman was whisked away. There I remained, stunned. I reflected upon what had just occurred, still staring mindlessly at my DS, and I think, inside, a little bit of me died.

The previous day, a completely different nutter had punched me in the back of the head in some kind of crazy-speak way of asking me for my seat. I found this to be a preferable approach, sore head and possible concussion issues aside.


Listened to ‘metal’**.
I’m always a bit reluctant to get onto the topic of ‘metal’ - whatever that might be these days. I know absolutely fuck all about it (and certainly don’t profess to), but through the people around me I seem to have latched onto the odd band here and there. But what I don’t get about metal are the two extremes of what I would personally call enjoyable music***, and what I’d like to call unenjoyable music****. I get that some people ‘ironically’ enjoy the whole theatre, makeup and general glam/cheese overtones of the latter category, but I’ve certainly got fuck all time for it. But back to what I don’t understand… what on earth gels these two – I think – vastly different styles of music under the ‘metal’ banner? That’s a genuine question, too - I really have no idea. I honestly see way more in common with a wing of my traditional genre of choice – old school punk – with many of the metal bands I like, than I do with the likes of, well, Satyricon.

Anyway, enough of that. What I’d really like to discuss now is a great little gig VG, Fandango and myself attended a few weeks ago – the Musicians Against Police Violence benefit gig for Lex Wotton. It was a genuinely fun gig, and for a rather good cause, but the overwhelming thing I noticed was the number of people there at the gig, really getting into the ‘metal’ on offer, were like little lost man-child-nerds who somehow missed the punk boat of the 90's. Or perhaps thought the boat wasn’t manly enough for them. Or that not enough people were running around shirtless, growling and throwing horns up in the air sweatily enough, on said boat. Perhaps, the boat was goatless, and they were forced to shed a very manly tear in its notable absence.

Maybe it was just a bit of a bad lineup, I don’t really know, but I can’t say it’s inspired me to turn up to any future gigs officially sanctioned by the united board of metal. After all, one vocalist could be heard repeatedly screaming “Lets hear it for contact lenses! WOO”, and sadly, the crowd responded, cheering her and her stupid showboating on. It was all just a bit sad.

Maybe I’m just old and far more attached the good old nerdy punks of the day who were equally shirtless and sweaty and yelly and stampy, but at least managed to refrain from working on their ‘crazed maniac’ stare for the crowds, or indeed, their hair solos. Plus if anyone had gone on at length about contact lenses, we’d have just set fire to ‘em.


Toyed with the notion of firing a steady stream of landlords straight into the sun.
The short version of this story is: We’ve been evicted! The long version is: We’ve been evicted so our money-grubbing landlord can flog it off to the highest overpaid, Brunswick invading scumbag they can find.

Real estate agents are making our lives unbelievably difficult in the process, and I’m downright sick of looking at houses claiming three bedrooms, but actually having one quantifiable bedroom, and a garden bed in which one might be able to erect a tent or two. I’m also getting fed up with filling in completely ludicrous applications that usually involve some kind of certification that you had a kidney removed when you were two years old, and YES, I am certain that this is the name, address and indeed first-born of the doctor in charge at the time. I bet they secretly sell identities to shady types on the side. The real estate business: very profitable indeed!

So; it’s goodbye to Brunswick (but not Hanover Street – we’ll be taking that with us), and hello to somewhere beginning with P, where we will become the overpaid, place-beginning-with-P invaders. Such is the food chain, I suppose.

Over and OUT!
The Rantolotl.


* Certifiably so! I guarantee it!

** By the time you have finished the 'metal' bit, you will want to kill me for putting the word metal in between these ''. Don't worry, I do too.

*** This! And this! And some of this too!

**** The list is too long. But you can start with some of this and progress - if that's what you want to call it - from there.

14 comments:

alex00023 said...

HI everyone,

My names Alex and Ive been reading this blog for a long time now, and its really good!!! Keep up the good work, rantalot! But yeh, im 19 years old and live in richmond, wich is kinda close to brunswick, and was wondering if theres any chicks that also enjoy this blog, and maybe we could catch up some time? Please email me at freaky__@hotmail.com if your interested, i'm a really nice guy and we could have some beer or something. SEe ya!

The Rantolotl said...

Hi Alex,

Bladeslapper didn't work out for you? Nor Furry Friends? That sucks.

http://www.bladeslapper.com/content/bb/viewtopic.php?f=27&t=1483&sid=0d699cc93babe731a564ea6fe94f30aa&p=15290#p15290

alex00023 said...

Nah, not yet but you know, like i think that just cos ppl dont know ya, they dont want to send an email yet? But if im chatting to you guys a lot, then you know, their might be some ppl that get interested or sumfin. I dunno! Im just trying to make friends, you dont have to be so mean.

alex00023 said...

Hey Rantalot maybe since you have all those bbqs and stuff, you could have one with like your fans from your blog? Cos richmond isnt that far away and you can invite some of the other ppl you know. I think youd like me a lot if ya got to know me!!! and sorry for saying you were being mean, just that i thouht you were teasin me, but yeh i know you wernt. So post up when your having a bbq and ill be there!

Rat said...

Rantolotl dating service, you should start charging.

So when our lovely narrator speaks of old school punks setting people on fire, she is not-so-secretly referring to personal experience, just ask Konst about the Skate n Surf green room.

CJ said...

ARRRGGGHHHHHH all those hair solos have broekn my brain.
I want Dragonforce at our next party - can we organise for them to play at the house-leaving (wrecking...?) party? They would be great on the back deck - I can see it now.
Or is the rantolotl too mean to grant me this one simple wish...?

The Rantolotl said...

Hey! Konst lived to tell the tale - what are you complaining about?

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