Sunday, 18 October 2009

Droid is coming

I don't like to advertise corporate propaganda and, being an early adopter, I'm stuck in a contract with a while to go ... but I am a fan ...

Monday, 5 October 2009

Does anybody miss me?

Have I resolved the issues of home?  As close as they can be resolved save building a time machine to avert this journey in the first place.  But time machines are difficult, the plutonium needed to run them is expensive and hard to come by and there's definitelyan easier way.  As the heavens opened up to the drought stricken shire the familiar mutterings of it being good for the farmers were heard.  It wasn't cold so the wetness didn't bother me as much as it may have done.  My resistanal fortitude and strong moral fibre ensured that my intoxication was steady and manageable but the balkanus paprikus circle dance ensured that my body was broken down yet again.  The last nights music was suitably entertaining, a touch too jazzy and self congratulatory for a cynic like me but hey, its global, what are you going to do?

Sunday, 4 October 2009

Its not a struggle if you're winning

a relaxed man

I've never been a morning person, getting up at a reasonable hour has always been a struggle, but I'm thinking that this must be a relative thing as both mornings that I've woken I've had hours alone waiting for my compatriots and most of the other festival goers (except for the overenthusiastic zenergetic practicioners who were up at the crack of dawn to balance their chakras ... or something ... but they're not really people who I can identify with too much, as hard as I'm trying).  a few hours of solitude, broken only by the inane pleasant chatter of hippies was most welcome before Abell Tours took us out to one of the local beaches which was a bit windswept but still very nice, greasy fish n chips lined our stomachs prior to the liquid onslaught that would no doubt follow.  Music was entertaining, african and local artists, a bit of rock, the inevitable jazz and reggae and, of course, a smattering of the female singer songwriter (what would we do without them).  Not as immersive as the previous evening but still very nice - I managed to push through to the very end this time and after a nightcap was dead to the world, which was good as apparently the locals brawling outside kept everyone up till the wee hours.  Its good to be a deep sleeper.

Saturday, 3 October 2009


After moving out of my house in centennial park (in a manner of speaking anyway) I started the long trip to the global carnival with a semi epic trek towards bondi junction, only epic due to the ridiculous size of the pack id decided on taking with me.   Miscommunications about leaving times and the fact that some of our party had difficulties getting out of their places of employ meant it took a few hours before we were properly on our way in the last tarago in sydney.  However, despite being relegated to the cattle class sections it was a relatively painless journey to the mid north coast where we spent the first evening being accommodated by our John Major's lovely parenta (I find it very difficult to shake the analogy of the man who ran away from the circus to become a politician with the boy who left the commune to become a banker). 
The festival was yet to start so after checking into NSW's best backpackers TM we headed for the local swing rope enhanced watering hole, the journey only slightly marred by a slight scraping incident with a vehicle in a carpark.  My delicate tootsies survived the razor sharp skipping stone shore and after being properly refreshed with immersion in water and consumption of pies and beer we finally made our way to the carnival.  Now, I'm not exactly a festival type person and my mood was tempered with the responsibilities id left at home (and the stepdaughter, who I really think should have been there with me) but a drumming circle does have the potential to bring one around to the right mentality.  As does beer, especially when the festival is sponsored by the messenger's choice of refreshment.  Took a six year old on my shoulders so he could get a better view of the balkan fiddlers, just at the moment when they decided to start a stage wide circle dance which dragged us into its gravity well, unable to shirk the attachment to my neck, me and ade found ourselves whirling for what felt like hours, our spines slowly being compressed by the weight of boys which seemed to gather mass with each bow fiddle.  I think I might enjoy this place.