The Boring Group

The Beautiful Girls make music for tanned people. I say take it to the beach and leave it there. Some things need to be shat on by seagulls.

Never before have I felt the urge to scream the name of a record label but I have tell you, ‘Die!Boredom’ was definitely on my mind. When frontman Mat McHugh started singing My Mind is an Echo Chamber, I thought what a coincidence, so is mine, this is the effect you are having on me. The complete absence of engaging music provided me with ample opportunity to focus on other things, like the large number of pork pie hats perched on audience members and how DJ Dizzy D has lovely bouncing hair that ripples like a field of barley when he dances.

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Not really anything at all due to a genuine sensation of tiredness

The very best state in which to receive a fierce and well thought out critique of your magazine is hungover and sleep deprived to the point of a new kind of clarity. You'll probably just have to take my word for it.

Bindings

Finally violence has made a comeback in the Inner West! I was beginning to think we had all been gentrified into a state of polite distaste. There have been three acts of violence in Slammatown this week. One friend was bopped in the head during a poker match for making a thoughtless remark, another attacked inside a kebab shop for no reason whatsoever and one stranger was thumped in the head quite forcefully by a passing homeless woman outside of The Duke. I welcome these acts of violence. Hang on a minute while I try and qualify that remark.

Turns out I don't welcome those acts of violence after all, particularly not the random attacking of my friend who was nothing more than drunk and hungry and waiting for a kebab. The thoughtless remark in a tense situation and the disordered mind of the homeless woman are at least a way into determining, not excusing, possible causes for the physical acts that followed.

What I do welcome is violence of thought. We need a bit more of that around this joint which is why I am developing my own miniature, contemporary and hypothetical Baader-Meinhof complex. I will escalate and bind my thoughts as grenades.

SLAMMATOWN - now an actual thing outside of my head and on someone else's website or hello RHUM

I have a column. I am allowing myself exactly half an hour to be excited by this followed by precisely two hours of fervent hoping that Sonia Zadro will never read it.

SLAMMATOWN: Sink a belle down a mineshaft and see what she sounds like; an excerpt with link

Sonia was crouched on a milk crate and howling through a detached gramophone horn outside Newtown station. She looked like the opposite of a bombshell, like something beautiful exploded and she walked out of the cloud of dust. Her voice sounds like a bell sunk down a mineshaft.
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Dolly bomb

His name was Tom, still is I suppose but that's beside the point. I told him straight up I wanted a cross between Dolly Parton circa 1968 and Joan Jett anytime. He kept running his fingers through my hair and staring at me intently in the mirror. He said 'It might be useful if you offered a little bit more of an explanation'. I told him it was more about the vibe than anything else, vibe and volume, no way anyone could say there was a Dolly Parton influence without some height on the hair.

An hour later I walked out of there a whole lot happier. It is impossible to be morose when your hair is a cross between Dolly Parton circa 1968 and Joan Jett anytime which is handy because I've been morose for about a fortnight now. I got to the point where I either had to do a Brian Wilson and take to my bed properly for a number of years while house becomes overrun with bastards or I had to get the fuck out of my bedroom and go kick some stuff on the street, like garbage bins, small children and seed pods.

I was struck down by some kind virus and I was already on holidays with the specific intent of laying around and doing fuck all but still, I found continuous complete inaction was a path not to bliss but to morosetown. Fortunately I am clever enough to have made the following astonishing discovery. The only cure for virus/holiday continuous and complete inaction is a Dolly Parton/Joan Jett haircut. This is a discovery science will not soon forget.

I

It is much easier to be a columnist than I had initially suspected

My editor asked me to send her six columns. I hope these will do...
Doric
Tuscan
Ionic
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