What is it about the music industry that inspires aristocratic, even royal, nom de plumes?
I'm not talking about nicknaming Madonna the "Queen of Pop", Michael Jackson the "King of Pop" or Kylie Minogue or Britney Spears "Pop Princesses". That's understandable: artists at the top of their field will be given easily-digestible honorifics, and royalty is about as recognisable as you can get.
(Although it doesn't tend to stretch much beyond music; I have yet to hear anyone describe scientist and former Australian of the Year Ian Frazer as "King of Cervical Cancer Vaccine Research").
But some artists/bands cut straight to the chase, giving themselves aristocratic names from the get go - I imagine as an easy, if subconscious, way of gaining status.
Feb 28, 2010
Feb 25, 2010
On Festivals & Being Funny
So the Brisbane Comedy Festival is now up and running over at the Brisbane Powerhouse.
I've been pondering for a while now whether to go full rant about this damn thing.
I've been pondering for a while now whether to go full rant about this damn thing.
Feb 22, 2010
First Contact...
...with an advertiser!
That's right, the grinding machinery of the nascent Clumsy Empire has kicked into gear in the name of corporate profit.
Well, kinda.
About a week ago, out of the blue, I got an email from a lady named Jennifer, on behalf of the online business Whiteport. They specialise in homewares, accessories & gifts - all in white (because according to Jennifer, the white palette is "timeless").
That's right, the grinding machinery of the nascent Clumsy Empire has kicked into gear in the name of corporate profit.
Well, kinda.
About a week ago, out of the blue, I got an email from a lady named Jennifer, on behalf of the online business Whiteport. They specialise in homewares, accessories & gifts - all in white (because according to Jennifer, the white palette is "timeless").
Feb 17, 2010
Dear Mr Atkinson
To: Attorney-General of South Australia
Mr Michael Atkinson
Adelaide, SA.
Dear Sir,
I write to you as a Concerned Citizen, and I hope, as man of Ultimate Sensitivity and Trustworthiness, that you will be able to Help me.
After your recent comments in the Media to that Young People's Show, I wanted to tell you that I am currently LIVING with a GAMER and am very scared. I want your help to show me how to convince him to put down the Wii-mote and do something Safer and More Productive such as becoming a Biker.
Mr Michael Atkinson
Adelaide, SA.
Dear Sir,
I write to you as a Concerned Citizen, and I hope, as man of Ultimate Sensitivity and Trustworthiness, that you will be able to Help me.
After your recent comments in the Media to that Young People's Show, I wanted to tell you that I am currently LIVING with a GAMER and am very scared. I want your help to show me how to convince him to put down the Wii-mote and do something Safer and More Productive such as becoming a Biker.
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 12, 2010
The Fridge Magnet
I wandered sleepily into the kitchen this morning to grab a banana out of the fridge. After I closed the fridge door, my eyes focused and I noticed, for the first time, just under the temperature display, a small turquoise rectangular fridge magnet. It read...
"Depression - You're Not Alone"
...and gave the phone number and website for Beyond Blue.
I stood there for a moment, somewhat stunned. Then I wandered back into the bedroom to ask the Wah if he'd put that fridge magnet up.
"No - I thought you did," was his reply.
"No," I said, somewhat thoughtfully. "I didn't".
"Depression - You're Not Alone"
...and gave the phone number and website for Beyond Blue.
I stood there for a moment, somewhat stunned. Then I wandered back into the bedroom to ask the Wah if he'd put that fridge magnet up.
"No - I thought you did," was his reply.
"No," I said, somewhat thoughtfully. "I didn't".
Feb 9, 2010
Made of Iron
Australia's erstwhile Opposition Leader Tony Abbott has tickled the nation's funnybone/moral outrage button again: this time for suggesting ironing is still the primary domain of the womenfolk.
Should we be surprised that Tony's missus is the one picking up the Tefal Aquasteam more than People Skills himself? After all, his preferred attire is Coogee-special budgie smugglers or skin-tight Lycra bike wear - neither of which require much pressing. By anyone. In any way. Ever. Ew.
Should we be surprised that Tony's missus is the one picking up the Tefal Aquasteam more than People Skills himself? After all, his preferred attire is Coogee-special budgie smugglers or skin-tight Lycra bike wear - neither of which require much pressing. By anyone. In any way. Ever. Ew.
Feb 6, 2010
Ah, theatre
I had the great pleasure this evening of attending the Brisbane Arts Theatre for the opening night of Radiance, Louis Nowra's drama about three half-sisters who discover secrets when they gather to bury their mother.
It was a gorgeous production; with three very talented young newcomers to the theatre in the roles of Mae, Cressy and Nona. I'd gone along last night to take a few publicity photos, and was pleased with how they turned out using my new 50mm lens:
The Wah is already well into work as director of Joseph Heller's Catch-22, which follows Radiance in March.
Tomorrow, I audition for The Tasmanian Babes Fiasco. Most of my Felafel cast are returning; however, there are several extra roles that need filling.
Now Radiance is full of emotion, pathos and beauty. Catch 22 is contains biting satire, and messages about the futility of war and the frustration of bureaucracy. These are both such wonderful plays, and I'm so proud of the Brisbane Arts Theatre for staging them.
But this evening, the Wah was flicking through Squire Bedak's script for Tassie Babes, which I had printed out and properly bound at Officeworks earlier today. When he turned to me and said...
"How are you going to make his penis fluorescent?"
... I thought HOT DAMN, I CAN'T WAIT TO DIRECT THIS PLAY.
It was a gorgeous production; with three very talented young newcomers to the theatre in the roles of Mae, Cressy and Nona. I'd gone along last night to take a few publicity photos, and was pleased with how they turned out using my new 50mm lens:
Georgia McBride-Levi, Louvel Yapali and Josifini Hawkins
The Wah is already well into work as director of Joseph Heller's Catch-22, which follows Radiance in March.
Tomorrow, I audition for The Tasmanian Babes Fiasco. Most of my Felafel cast are returning; however, there are several extra roles that need filling.
Now Radiance is full of emotion, pathos and beauty. Catch 22 is contains biting satire, and messages about the futility of war and the frustration of bureaucracy. These are both such wonderful plays, and I'm so proud of the Brisbane Arts Theatre for staging them.
But this evening, the Wah was flicking through Squire Bedak's script for Tassie Babes, which I had printed out and properly bound at Officeworks earlier today. When he turned to me and said...
"How are you going to make his penis fluorescent?"
... I thought HOT DAMN, I CAN'T WAIT TO DIRECT THIS PLAY.
Feb 3, 2010
Putting my foot in it...
... or close enough, anyway.
I went to hospital last Friday to get x-rays and double-check the damage. Turns out I didn't break anything - mind you, the girl labelled my x-rays "left foot" when quite clearly it was the right, what with the enormous swelling and all. And before you start on the Queensland Health jokes, I had in fact ventured to the St Andrews Emergency Centre, a private hospital for war veterans. I'm not sure whether it was a compliment to have a nurse say to me "You're the healthiest person I've seen all week!". Certainly I felt a bit bad being wheeled around in a chair - but then, it would've taken me an hour to limp from triage to the x-ray centre.
I was amused at overhearing a doctor try to diagnose a poor old bugger who'd been brought in with some sort of breathing difficulty and possibly an exisiting condition. I say 'overhear' as if I was eavesdropping but in fact you can't really help it when the doctor leans into said old bugger and yells: "Why are you in the hospital today? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
No wonder the old dude was confused. Isn't it the doctors' job to find out?
They gave me crutches and a compression sock (TUBIGRIP!), which subsequently got covered in fake blood in the final two performances of Prognosis: Death! Pandemic, giving my injury an even creepier appearance. They were great shows, and I managed to stay upright and walking for the duration, but the act of wearing shoes has somewhat brought up the purplish-green bruising on the old footsie.
I still haven't taken any painkillers for it; it's just more inconvenient to get around on. A pity too, as I would have loved to spend some money going clothes shopping on my holiday, which is rapidly approaching its end (and yet, I don't feel rested). Mind you, the $250 hospital trip did somewhat deplete my fiscal resources. That's why you'll see I've used Blogger's new pages function to set up a section all about me, in the hope that someone might hire me to do some freelance copywriting or travel writing or writing about anything for them. I may be Captain Limpy, but I'm cheap, y'all.
I went to hospital last Friday to get x-rays and double-check the damage. Turns out I didn't break anything - mind you, the girl labelled my x-rays "left foot" when quite clearly it was the right, what with the enormous swelling and all. And before you start on the Queensland Health jokes, I had in fact ventured to the St Andrews Emergency Centre, a private hospital for war veterans. I'm not sure whether it was a compliment to have a nurse say to me "You're the healthiest person I've seen all week!". Certainly I felt a bit bad being wheeled around in a chair - but then, it would've taken me an hour to limp from triage to the x-ray centre.
I was amused at overhearing a doctor try to diagnose a poor old bugger who'd been brought in with some sort of breathing difficulty and possibly an exisiting condition. I say 'overhear' as if I was eavesdropping but in fact you can't really help it when the doctor leans into said old bugger and yells: "Why are you in the hospital today? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
No wonder the old dude was confused. Isn't it the doctors' job to find out?
They gave me crutches and a compression sock (TUBIGRIP!), which subsequently got covered in fake blood in the final two performances of Prognosis: Death! Pandemic, giving my injury an even creepier appearance. They were great shows, and I managed to stay upright and walking for the duration, but the act of wearing shoes has somewhat brought up the purplish-green bruising on the old footsie.
I still haven't taken any painkillers for it; it's just more inconvenient to get around on. A pity too, as I would have loved to spend some money going clothes shopping on my holiday, which is rapidly approaching its end (and yet, I don't feel rested). Mind you, the $250 hospital trip did somewhat deplete my fiscal resources. That's why you'll see I've used Blogger's new pages function to set up a section all about me, in the hope that someone might hire me to do some freelance copywriting or travel writing or writing about anything for them. I may be Captain Limpy, but I'm cheap, y'all.
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