Dale Slamma

We Buy Your Kids

I ran into Sonny Day on my way home from Mag Nation, I'm visiting that place daily until the new issue of Apartamento comes in. Sonny was opening a taxi door then closing it again after his friend climbed inside, makes sense when you stop to consider the basic physics of doors, Australia and taxis.

I've been talking to Sonny on the phone lately, sent the odd email or two, it was good to run into him and reconfirm that he is a real person and not a distinct set of telephone broadcast tones or a particular arrangement of the alphabet displayed in my inbox. Sonny is in fact kind of sunny despite the beard that can only be described as biker.

I've been talking to Sonny and Biddy about logos* for PAN magazine. They had said they were keen but needed to consider their schedule, which is unbelievably full. I anticipated a lovely but negative answer to the question of making me a logo but as it turns out I was wrong. You could have knocked me over with a dumbo feather as the taxi drove away and Sonny was standing on the street telling me yes, yes We Buy Your Kids would love to work with PAN magazine.

* Please note that We Buy Your Kids will be designing a logo very late this year, they are not responsible for any of the plain things that are up on the PAN website at the moment.

Amazeballs

Today Slammaland intersected with PANland when I met Raging Yoghurt for the first time. She ordered the chocolate soup, I had two identical biscuits. If I wasn't so tired I'd tell you all about how smart, stylish and charming she is. I suppose that kind of information will have to wait for another day.

She thought she was chained up, she wasn't chained up but she was definitely dying

I thought well this is just about the worst situation a person can witness so I got out my sketchbook and made a picture.

Sometimes being alive for 100 days is reason enough to celebrate

Since she was born I drew a picture of a teapot and paid somebody to tattoo it on my shoulder in white ink. My life has turned on a sixpence and sped directly into the unknown realms of overwhelming joy, fulfillment and optimism. I'm not saying it's because of her, not even because of the teapot but something is markedly different around here. I have a new and lovely regret founded in the discovery of the 352 bus.

Official capacity

I like surprises that are good. I like editing magazines and writing sentences like "I am putting my fingers in all your pies". I also like being approached by a ski company to write their tweets for them. In the meeting I had to repress the urge to yell about snow and also that I find twitter quite annoying.

The idea of snow excites me. I've seen snow twice now, once I saw a little patch by the side of a road and one cold day it snowed at my Mum's house in Katoomba. It looked like floaty rain or evidence of a malfunction in my brain. I had no idea what was happening and for several long seconds stood at the window unable to comprehend what I was seeing. I think I said to my mother 'there is something wrong with outside, better come and have a look'. We stood in silence for a moment then Mum told me it was snow. I don't suppose that is the kind of thing that a ski company should know about. A person being paid to write for a ski company should have the ability to comprehend snow.

More surprising than propelling high speed air into your naked armpit

I walked into yet another promising looking boutique in my neverending search to source clothes for PAN magazine's first ever editorial fashion shoot. The woman behind the counter informed me that their lending policy was 'We don't lend', but then she hesitated and asked which magazine I was from. I told her PAN magazine expecting a blank look but she smiled and asked me what PAN stood for. I said "ponies are necessary but nobody is supposed to know about that". She said "I know about it and I love it". Seems that word is beginning to spread.

Oh and she might be changing her mind about the lending policy. We'll find out tomorrow.

Deodorant that makes you smell

I went to Penguin and was pointed at by Pip Smith which was nice. I was going to talk about PAN magazine but what seems more important right now is my deodorant. I have not always been a fan of the spray-on kind of deodorant, I found propelling air into my armpits too much of a shocking experience and ended up jumping around like a lunatic. I still jump around but there has been a fundamental shift in my thinking. My new and experimental tin of spray-on deodorant increases my naturally occurring body odour in the same way that an amplifier transmits the sound of a guitar. And I like it. I am going to spray again tomorrow and become one of those people that smells just precisely like themselves.

Fine then let's make a deal - I'll give you ten for your eleven

Tomorrow we might talk about the magazine and just why it is called PAN.

Generally my preferred Elvis is Costello not Presley

Well Elvis is something else. He was wearing an expensive suit two sizes too large. He was shambolic yet dapper and he occasionally danced across the stage. Elvis likes stepping away from his microphone, not afraid to strum his guitar and just sing, really let rip like they used to before somebody stuck a cord into a black box and discovered amplification. Once or twice he got a little experimental and made some art noise with his loop machine and pedals. I feel like I'm being haunted by loops at the moment. Everybody wants to stand on stage with a loop machine and make a band of themselves. I think its because we've forgotten how to go solo, almost everyone's plugged into someone else all the time. I suppose it's only natural that they take this to the stage where traditionally it has been lonely or it was until somebody figured out how to multiply one person into the sound of many.

Daisy from Bridezilla played a solo set at Oxford Arts Factory on Friday night, before Spencer's band and then The Mess Hall. I like Daisy, she's grand because she stands like she means it and just fucking sings. The Holy Soul were, as they almost always are these days, better than the audience deserved. I didn't stay to hear The Mess Hall play, I managed to not call Jed Dan and that was enough for me. Radio Man was buying me drinks, I should have thought to drink something a little more expensive than water but it didn't occur to me at the time. I'm sure I had something else to say but I've forgotten what it might have been.

I've been saving my words lately. I've been holding back all effort that doesn't further the future of PAN magazine. I'll stop doing that eventually or maybe tomorrow but right now I'm riding that first wave of excitement just as far as it can take me. I'm hiding pens and notepads under my pillows in case I think of something in the night, I'm carrying two kinds of briefcase, working on three computers and tuning my footsteps to the sounds to the triple tap of magazine. I'll kick this habit at the launch party but for right now please don't wake me from this magazine dream.

In the morning it would be better if you've gone

Sometimes the very best way to spend a Saturday morning is sitting in bed with a nice cup of tea listening to Bob Dylan's Christmas album and reading Nylon magazine. It helps to make a tiny bubble to stop in for a moment, even if the bubble doesn't really make sense.