Sunday, March 28, 2010


It's been a long, fun road to this issue.

I've decided it's time to dust off the old blog in celebration.

So, internet, how are you?

I've missed you, have you missed me?

I've been seeing other pandustrial structures, you've been seeing, well... most everyone.

But that's in the past.

The future is now.

And that Future is:


This issue features a plethora of goodness, read it to find out.

Thanks to my co-editors Cameron Ashley and Keith Rawson.

And thanks to alcohol for bringing about some of my best ideas.

Check it, yo!

Thursday, August 6, 2009


Gone too soon at just nineteen.

You'll be missed by family, friends and all.

All our love, always.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009



Friday night at MIFF and I was booked for two movies. The first was WHITE LIGHTNIN', described by Vanity Fair as "A white-trash psychobilly nightmare with midnight movie appeal". Fucking sign me up!

Inspired by the life of the "Dancing Outlaw", Jesco White, WHITE LIGHTNIN' chronicles his life and drug addiction in West Virginia.

The film goes through Jesco's childhood as he huffs gas and lighter fluid, and moves onto harder drugs, before becoming increasingly violent and sporadic and being moved to a number of institutions and psychiatric health clinics.

After getting (relatively) straightened out, Jesco decides to become a dancer, like his father, and whilst on tour, meets his future wife, 'Cilla (Carrie Fischer), before taking a very, VERY dark turn later in the film.

At first, I found the film slightly off-putting for its sporadic and episodic nature, but as I eased into it, I actually found this one of the films appealing aspects. While extremely dark, the film is also incredibly funny, due largely to Edward Hogg's largely unsettling and laconic performance and voice-over as Jesco. His southern drawl and dangerous eyes are provocative and mesmerising.

White Lightnin' is a film that benefits from only a brief description of the films wild content, and much credit must go to the writing team of Eddie Moretti and Shane Smith, whose first screenplay is at turns dazzling, hilarious, depressing and gripping. They create a sympathetic and whole portrait of all the characters involved, whilst never softening the edges or pulling any punches.

First-time director Dominic Murphy gets the most from all performers, with no one hitting a false note throughout the entire film, and manages to perfectly balance the films ofter incongruous tone into something palatable and fascinating at every turn.

While Edward Hogg's winning performance should rightfully garner much praise, the most surprising aspect of this film was Carrie Fisher, who's soulful and broad interpretation of 'Cilla is possibly the finest performance of her entire career. She is fucking wonderful!

This is a film that never outstays its welcome, is close to perfect in almost every respect, and is one which I can't wait to watch again and again. If every other film I saw at the festival didn't live up to this, which I'm expecting them not to, it would still be a satisfying experience.




I got myself a mini-pass to MIFF (The Melbourne International Film Festival) and have decided to do some small reviews on each of the films I see.

First up is what I saw last Tuesday - HUMPDAY.

Written and directed by American Lynn Shelton, HUMPDAY is the story of two guys who've been friends since their days at University. Through a series of events that sound highly convoluted when I try and write them down, but somehow flow quite naturally in the film, they decide to have sex for an amateur porn festival, although they are both straight.

Sweet, charming, honest and hilariously funny, HUMPDAY fires on most cylinders, delivering a lovely film about homoerotic desires, friendship and the self. Shelton gets incredible performances from the entire cast, who seem to largely improvise their dialogue. Each character feels completely authentic and three-dimensional, and there exists great chemistry and excellent dynamics between them all.

The pace clips along briskly, which is good, because the one downfall of the film is its tendency to over-analyse itself, as, while interesting, much of what is said between the characters is obvious to the audience anyway, and while natural dialogue is all well and good, it's not necessarily interesting to watch. Luckily Shelton and cast manage to stay on the perfectly charming side of good for the bulk of the film.

A great way to start the festival!

And even though these systems are flawed, I'm going to allocate scores anyway, because I love a bit of illogical ranking.


Thursday, July 23, 2009


Got some stuff up at, check out the site, some very cool fun stuff there.

Each piece has to be fifty words or less, and writing anything of any resonance that long proved to be a shit-load harder than I thought it would be...

It won't blow your mind or anything, but I feel I didn't embarrass myself.

Check it out, then check out some of the other stuff, cheers!


Sunday, July 19, 2009


The second book by Jason Starr I've read (fifth if you count the Max & Angela books he co-wrote with Ken Bruen - and you REALLY, REALLY should), Starr seemed to really be finding his own voice with this novel.

The first time I read a solo book by Starr, TWISTED CITY, I was struck by its resemblance to Bret Easton Ellis' work, specifically, AMERICAN PSYCHO, and founded it an equally worthy, if more entertaining version of that. So it's only appropriate that HARD FEELINGS sports a handsome quote from Ellis on the cover. And Starr deserves it, too.

HARD FEELINGS slowly draws you in, making you like and relate to its lead character just enough so that when he starts to unravel, you feel you just might along with him.

The book, though, is not without its flaws. There is a slight feeling of drag in the middle section of the book as the character's guilt and paranoia overtake him, which, while effective, interrupted the flow of the story a bit.

I can only imagine if I had read HARD FEELINGS before any of Starr's other work, the impact it would have had, because, as it stands, the similarities with it and TWISTED CITY are too large to overlook, yet, TWISTED CITY defied its more conventional tendencies, while HARD FEELINGS allows them to a degree. Although no fault of Starr's, it is the undeniable comparison to his later, more sophisticated and refined work that ultimately hurt the book for me.

That isn't to say it's bad, far from it, I tore through its pages greedily, and was left with what felt like a film of grease and shame upon finishing it.