Looking through his phone!

Well last night, after eating a tasty chicken sausage and salad dinner I settled comfortably into my soft leather couch, a new magazine and nothing to bother me all night. I figured an early night was on the cards after having a couple of late ones over the weekend.. Speaking of which, don’t ask me how I ended up meeting Wolfmother, Powderfinger and Gyroscope (Bands for the misinformed) during a fishing trip! That’s right, late on Saturday evening I was walking home, when I saw a bloke standing at the top end of my street. Under his arm a fishing rod and esky in hand. Waiting for a lift I figured. So I said good-ay as I passed, and thirty minutes later we’re standing on the wharf, line in the water, testing out his latest batch of homebrew Bourbon. If that’s not strange enough, after a few to many tantalising tasters we throw the gear on the ute (SUV for the American’s) and head home, unfortunately or fortunately, for reason’s the authorities tell us not to drink drive; We find ourselves walking into a quite looking pub at the far end of town. What we don’t realise until much later and much drunker, is that at the back of the pub is a large beer garden full of after party goes from the music festival which was on earlier in the day .. So with our fish stink on and all, we slipped in and begun to take full advantage of the Tab… Random!

But alas this isn’t so much about Saturday, as it is Monday night. How crazy can a Monday night really be? Around 9pm I receive a message from a guy I know from back home. He suggests we head out for a drink, as the torrents style room mate back packer is scaring the shit out of him and he needs to calm some nerves. I guess a couple should be in order, and I’ll message Miss Humanitarian later to catch up when she knocks off work. Excellent idea and perfect excuse to go home at a reasonable hour I figure.

With this plan in tact I head off, and before I know it I’m at The Vic, a hotel known for $3.50 meals and colourful games which generally attract large numbers of back packers. Who I might mention is ready to do anything for a free jug of delicious oak soda (Beer), and this generally means some sort of nudity. Tonight was no exception by any means and the place is packed full of rowdy foreigners; it was going to be an entertaining night. Triva, the game… would eventually lead to semi nudity and table top dancing as everyone in the pub swings to the tunes of Aqua – Barbie Girl. That’s the type of place this is, with 5 jugs up for grabs, the mood was high.

After sitting back and just taking in the atmosphere, I message Miss H to catch up. She replies saying that she has two guys with her (Customers) who wanna be shown the town. I’m obliged to say bring them along, I have no reason not to. “I’ll be there shortly” she replies, eventually I message back after some time asking if she’s still coming, and in a couple of minutes she shows up, two men in pursuit.

I didn’t question her much about what took so long, but for some reason she spills some crazy excuses. I accept them without much thought, but I won’t lie, I did sense myself feeling slightly insecure (Okay for better understanding, Miss H and I have been having a “thing” which is scheduled to end the day I fly out, and without taking things to serious I have no grounds to get jealous). Anyway I pass it off, especially when I look around the room and see what other potential is on sale tonight..

The plan was to head home, but it becomes obvious we’ll be staying a little longer entertaining our new guests.. Who sort of join the group periodically, but mainly standing to the side. I don’t mind so much, it’s a good night and the beer is starting to take hold of my love handles and shake them all about. I’m on the verge of dance mode for sure!!. Anyway, still getting to the point, at some stage I head off to the little boy’s, tinkle time. Strangely when I’m standing over the urinal I make a realisation, I’ve left my phone on the table. What an awful feeling, I know it’s safe, but I feel almost naked!

What’s worse though, is the discovery I make as I approach the table. I can see she’s fumbling though a phone and without doubt I know it’s mine. I silently make my way over being careful not to be noticed. I peer over her shoulder, to watch as she scrawling thought my outbox..

This doesn’t work for me at all, it’s not that I have something to hide.. well maybe just a little, but a text message has no context does it. Further to the point it’s just plain invasive. Usually I guess I would make a big deal about it. I’ve sworn before that if I catch a girl doing this sort of thing it’s an instant dismissal. In this case though, she’s young and obviously insecure, I’m supposed to be leaving, and this isn’t supposed to be serious.

So with as much grace as I can give I just explain it’s not cool to be snooping though someone else’s phone. I’ve done it before, and I’ve had it done to me. Most times it just leads to undue heart ache.. And if she’s doing it to me, it just means she doesn’t trust me.

I mention it to my mate who’s oblivious to what had just happened over the loud music and frantic crowd. He empathizes with me, and almost makes out like it could be worse then cheating. But hey, i'm irritated but this isn’t supposed to be serious. I dropped the subject figuring I might have a chat to her later.. Before I knew it, it was one o’clock and I was only just getting home..

I didn’t bring it up again, just doesn’t seem like it was worth it. Would love to hear how others feel about people going through someone else’s phone though. I expect if your in a serious relationship like married or something, it’s nice to be transparent.. But otherwise it's a no go zone.

Peace, in a bottle!

Not sure if I have much to really write about today. For some reason everything seems to be going really slow. It’s now been about 5 -6 weeks since I went out drinking or even just plain drinking! Not exactly a style I exercise too often, and in part it’s boring as hell!!

Last Friday was a tough one, the day was winding down, and as I looked around the office all I could think about was breaking loose from this prison cell and getting coconut crazy on some delicious refreshing beverages. I decided a six pack would be required as a minimum to help eradicate this sense of tediousness. So with this in mind I rushed home, and set forth planning the evening’s entertainment. I figured since I don’t have any mates to drink with I might as well try my luck with some fishing.

Okay seeing as I plan on living off the land during my previously plotted escapades across the world, (yes world, the term country is so confining) it’s mighty important I can actually catch fish one would think. Unless of course I trip on some luck and find Jesus, who’ll miraculously turn water into wine and five loafs of bread and two fish into a feast. What a champ he would be on a road trip! Back on track though, so with a firm plan for the evening I got myself prepared with all my fishing instrumentation, even some new stuff. I pack my gear and head off to catch the evening low tide feeling pretty confident I’ll land a whooper!

On the way I slip into the bottle-o, some fancy beers tonight I think, as I peruse the selection. “Six James Squire Amber Ales, Thanks mate”. A strong definitive bitter flavour for fishing I expertly decide. So I pay the good fellow and head off down to my fishing spot. Seeing as I’m not local here; my fishing spots are just a guess at best, as is my technique! This could possibly be my down fall I later discover! First task, scale a few hundred meters of a slippery rock wall, while precariously balancing my precious six pack of gold. Once this is achieved, time to setup and enjoy the evening.

A strong aroma drifts out from underneath the bottle cap as I pry it open with the back of the fishing knife. The flavours linger around my mouth long after the cool refreshing liquid has been swallowed. A strong sense of pepper’s and cloves can be tasted. It’s simply divine, I conclude as I tongue the nozzle of the first empty bottle!

An hour or so passes, and I’m still only half way though my second bottle. It’s a mixture of pure delight savouring the flavour crossed with a certain fear that at any moment I’m likely to slip off the greasy surface of the rock on which I stand and drop hideously into murky waters below. Which I’ll briefly point out takes up much of my beer drinking concentration. With hardly a bite, ten thousand Sandfly welts and a general uneasiness from resting on this rock I hastily decide to move. It’s 11pm by this stage so I’m sufficiently ready to call it a night.

On the way home I feel a bit let down by my efforts, not only on a fishing front, but also with my plans for a beer drinking extravaganza. I’m starting to feel like an old man! So in a last minute decision I speed past my apartment, and make my way down to the fisherman’s wharf. Located down the hill from where I live, which is the local pen for trolling boats, wholesale fish markets and an industrial shipping yard. When I make it to the end, I can see some other desperate fellows still dangling good faith at the end of a nylon line. With a beer in hand I hop out of my rig to investigate if these fellow chumps have had as much luck as I have. As it would turn out the first bloke I approach is swaying more then a worm in a half empty bottle of tequila. I get chatting and before long I’ve traded one of my precious ales with my new friend. In exchange he helps me out with my set up and shares some of his live bait. Top guy I think..

The night really didn’t take much of a turn, fishing wise, despite not getting home until 7am the next day I was still empty handed! It didn’t seem to matter all that much though, because by my fourth and unfortunately last bottle I was already feeling the constraints of the daily grind lifting off my shoulders. And as the night grew on, Random drunk guy, his mate and I chatted on about all the expired adventures of the past. Then of the trips to come, comparing notes, life experiences and challenges which every bloke must face when chasing the ultimate dream…….

Man I can’t wait to go fishing again!

In My Little Window

Generally speaking my musical tastes have in recent years been carefully wrapped up in tissue paper, packed in soft foam, gaffa taped into a little square ivory box and feed to a Leafy Sea Dragon for safe keeping. On this tiny little box written in bold letters are the names of these bands; Guttermouth, Pennywise, Millencolin, NOFX, Frenzal Rhomb, No Fun At All, Bad Religion, Blink 182, Lagwagon, Unwritten Law, Strung Out, AFI.. Just to name a few. Yes this is pretty much just a list of the skater punk bands which did the rounds on the late 1990's Punk scene, where life was all about being naked, drunk and pubic hair. Dealing with life’s little mishaps, and antidotes.. Generally structured around a scene, usually one of those sticky don’t look at me, embarrassing adolesce moments. It’s no wonder many of these songs featured on films such as American Pie and Road trip.

Traditionally speaking though, punk music was all about political outrage. Turning the term “politically correct” upside down, dumping it in a skip bin and then probably spitting on it. By no means did this stop during the late 90’s, but some bands did choose to deviate somewhat and this was the creation of the skater punk. I consider the early Blink 182 album’s the pinnacle of this sub-genre. Something I, and many mates couldn’t get enough of at the time.

Meanwhile in a bid to find that “New sound” bands started mixing different styles, and with all music, new electronic techniques where adopted. I think the first group to really understand and develop this was Korn back in 1992, in what is said to be the rebirth of Rock. Anyway, everything evolves and so did punk. When veteran band AFI released its new album December Underground; it was received with mixed feelings. The Skater Punk’s of old expected the same as years before and were shocked to hear and see this new style and Goth like appearance. While the younger crew ate it up like Vegemite on toast and begun growing the reverse mullet.

Clearly it was time to move on.. Those like me found this difficult to deal with, labelling it Emo and disregarded it as “Junk”. But it wasn’t long before more and more bands started popping up, growing with momentum as the new kids pushed to hear more. And the more they pushed the more they were given!!

This isn’t a bad thing it’s just different, like The Doors to Anti-Flag, it’s a constant evolution which needs to be recognized for its unique contrast and sounds. The bands at the forefront push there talents to the limits, finding a place where they will fit in this enormous music industry and I guess if it wasn’t for these guys we’d still be listening to Swing music! Remember the reception Elvis Presley got when he first appeared on the scene? Neither do I because I’m too young.. But he was almost an outlaw; breaking from the conservative restrains which strangled music direction. Remember The Clash, and The Sex Pistols, The Ramones, Dead Kennedy..

The big question, will we get old and stuck in our own little ivory box with our favourite music collection like our parents have?

Currently listening to:

Liberation...

Today I received a message from Zac, in what I understand as a feeble attempt to make sense of it all. But clearly he recognizes the issues with quantifying life.

“I was thinking if we leave in October it will be going into summer, so we should go across the bottom end of Australia and ferry to Tasmania? Do summer in Tasmania because it'll be the wet season in the Northern Territory. Do the east coast in autumn and the top end in winter!But you know this is a plan, and we’re pretty random so we’ll probably end up in Thailand for 4 months from October working???”

So in summary, I guess you could call that the itinerary for our road trip… It’s almost too detailed to be honest.

A trip, I'd rather forget!

It’s been awhile, five weeks and so much has happened that it already feels like it could have been a year ago. I was sitting at work when I received an extremely disappointing message from a friend. It felt shattered, and the thought of what the weekend would bare scared me.. Nothing like being secluded in a City with no close friends to be distracted by, just your own thoughts to drive you mad.

So without much thought I skipped through the Airfare pages on the internet. Nothing like a last minute get away to keep myself distracted for a weekend I thought! A mate of mine had been begging me for a few months to come help finish his 4wd and watch him compete in this year Tough Truck Challenge. But up until now I didn’t have much interest in it, nor money. But I figured why not.

I phoned the lads and warned them on my decent. Obviously the first question: When and where are you landing?

I didn’t know this either, so in a mad rush I eagerly surfed the net back and forth trying to get the best price. About five hours before take off it appeared that I had some flights booked, I didn’t have the confirmation, but I figured I could get them once I arrived in Newcastle. I had a Virgin Seat, from Darwin – Melbourne – Newcastle and on the way home Jetstar back to Melbourne and Tiger to Darwin. At this point I was pretty content with the plan.

So I messaged the guys, still unsure how I would get from the plane to their house or even to the comp ground which is two hours away by car. But honestly this was the least of my worries; I was supposed to be at work tomorrow and the day after that. I quickly slipped into the boss’s office; this wasn’t going to be easy! I could feel my face go flush and my heart beating as I lied about my where about. I hated lying, but I hated the thought of being stuck in Darwin with my thoughts even more. Eventually after much integration, the word was given, and I’d be in New South Wales tomorrow. I feeling of premature relief came over me. And with a smile I packed up my table and headed home.

I had a couple of hours to pack my gear. A couple of spare shirt’s, shorts and a singlet.. that should do I thought, surely it couldn’t be cold. And in any case I didn’t have any warm clothes up here with me in the tropics anyway. This would have to do. So I grabbed my bag and headed to the airport.

It was at this point as I was climbing onto the plane I finally received a reply from the boy’s. It seemed that they were going to be picking me up.. Sweet I thought. Another wave of relief and now all I had to do was get relaxed and enjoy the next 8 or so hours of flying!

I hate flying; I’ll just point this out right now! Sleeping is hardly an option for me. I even tried having a beer to help drift off into lumber land, but it wasn’t working. With a bloke beside me who required a seat belt extension I wasn’t exactly in a comfortable position either, hanging half way out into the laneway getting bumped every time another misfortunate fool made there way towards the toilet. This sucked!

Sometime in the early morning I arrived in Newcastle, and made my way to the entrance of the airport. It was at this point I started to realise I may have made some minor miscalculations.. Like temperatures, it would seem that NSW is not exactly the tropics. My loosely hung singlet, shorts and ever reliable pluggers were about as useful as cling wrap in a cool room. I rummaged through my bag and slipped on two more t-shirts in a lame bid to gain some warmth.

As they always say about a journey, it’s the trip not the location.. In most cases I would agree. But this time around, I was already feeling wiry, totally drained from the mad rush and sleepless night. This was going to be a nightmare! All I could hope for was a little sleep before the comp. Ha, like that would ever materialise, and I was right.

This is what the fuss was about..

By late Friday we had the car on the trailer, incomplete but we were already 4 hours late for scrutineering. So off we set… Hunter Valley, most commonly known for its fine wines and picturesque landscape would be the back drop to one of the biggest redneck events of the year. 5000+ blocks camping in the bush, doing what blokes do when the wife isn’t around! And I sure as hell didn’t feel like I should be any different. After drinking a few long necks on the road I was well and truly already feeling the mind numbing affects of the alcohol. So I quickly jumped onto the port and…… And I woke up the next morning, cold, shivering in the front seat of my mate’s car, covered in what looked like spew. Yes, aged 24 and I had no recollection of the night before; I could only see the remanence of disgrace sitting in my lap. The next morning was surly a walk of shame I’ll never forget. The boy’s taunted me with wild stories of the night before. As luck may or may not have it, these deranged activities never did come back to me. But I still sure felt like an idiot!

The fog lifting as the sun riases sunday morning.

The rest of the weekend seemed pretty dull in comparison, well apart from the sleepless night under a tarpaulin! As you could imagine I wasn’t feeling the best, my pride broken and my mate pretty pissed that not only had I spewed in his car, but his comp rig was still not running. $20 000 invested to make in here, countless hours, mates had worked on it for him… and nothing to show for it. Every time something seemed fixed another problem would arise. I just kept my head down and wondered around like a lost soul catching up with all the guys I had met on my previous trip a couple of years ago.

It wasn’t until the end of the event that things started to get messy again. We faced a fierce storm heading back into Newcastle and I started to panic. Only a few hours from now I was supposed to be boarding a plane and judging by the weather it would be a fluke if I was going anywhere. I had forty five minutes between interconnecting flights in Melbourne, I couldn’t afford a delay. The original plan was to get home early Monday morning in time for work on Monday. The thought of not making it home in time worried the shit out me. My job was already hanging on a line, not turning up for another day was sure to cause some waves.
As I had already by this stage guessed, my plane wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.. HIT BY LIGHTNING they announced over the speaker phone! And that’s when it became apparent. I wouldn’t be getting home tonight, and if I was getting home at all it was going to cost.. I’ve already blogged about the long, long night sitting in the Melbourne airport silently waiting on the cold metal seats.. A hard way to finish a trip I guarantee you! All I could think about was getting home, guess I had that distraction I was looking for.

I guess I smiled a little.. Photo taken by two hot random chicks ;)

You know, I was never all that excited about the trip, and in hindsight I’d be thinking a little different if I was to do it again! But you live and you learn hey. At least I got to catch up with some of the friends I’ve made over the years and I guess that’s something.

Australia Day...

Australia day, what did this mean.. to me, a half cast of sorts. A mixture of pom and wog immigrates who moved to Australia at a fairly young age. They settled with their parents and married young. Well by today’s standards anyway.. Similarly, the first settlement was founded in 1788 by a bunch of English prudes. Though I won’t hold it against them, because what they seemed to do right was bring a bunch of convicts with them. Now I’ve heard plenty of jokes about Australia being a bunch of no good, useless fools, but on reflection this may have been what helped contribute to the Australian culture which we now boast. An easy going crew who love nothing more than the simple pleasures Dorian Gray, the crook, not the aristocrat, sort to enjoy. . Should have Dorian Gray been of middle class he certainly would have been deported. This is the type of character to which Australia was built.. I mean look at our national icon of sorts. Ned Kelly, the son of an Irish Convict. He is now held at such esteem as characters like Robin Hood. Stealing for the poor… Truthfully he probably did it to buy a couple of beers for the gang.

Anyway whatever it was, is.. We can all agree that Australia day is now about hanging out with good friends, in good weather, drinking beer and eating the tradition sausage in bread with mato sauce. With this in mind, I went about making sure I had some plans, like most would it was, in my head decided that I would spend the day in Perth at a friend’s house getting gassed on the deliciously tasting golden ale commonly known as beer. With this plan I felt comfortable, and looked forward to the day… What happened on the other hand is hard to explain, and I still feel that I don’t know what it really meant. What happened was absolutely not like the plans.. at 4:50pm Friday afternoon, sitting at work I got a call from Zac who I had messaged earlier in the day. It was quickly established that we leave right away for a trip to Carnarvon.. in a car I had never seen. On description; I swapped it for my Suzuki Sierra.. it was unlicensed but I took it over the pits.. Sounds good enough to me! By 6:30 we were on the road.. All that we had packed was a change of clothes, a swag and an extensive collection of Cd’s… 1000km, the destination..
We were on the path to find the heart of Australia. What did it really mean to us, and how far were we willing to push ourselves in the traditional road trip manner to find it? Only time could tell!

Our intention to go to Carnarvon was of the noblest cause. At first it was to share a beer with a good mate on this momentous occasion. Colby the poor guy is what you describe as a workaholic. His two week on, one week off generally turned out to be three months on and one week off. Which he didn’t mind so much, but this meant he was always away from friends on festive holidays. Something we tried our hardest to make up for when he was home.. Somewhere during the drive though the stakes were lifted to “Stealing” this kid to join our drunken entourage and erratic escapades.

What a sight we were when we first arrived. The ten hour drive turned out to be thirteen and then some more. Both Zac and I had taken some time to kip before the last stretch. At this point in the morning we tallied up the drink count.. 6 cans of warm EB rolled around loosely in the back of the van, which left 24 empties, plus two empty longnecks of some disgusting cider which we had picked up with uneducated reasoning.. “Look man, it’s like 8%!” We were in a pretty bad state and the breakfast beers really unsettled us further. It was burning on the way down, and that was literally because they had been sitting above the motor for the whole trip.. Yummy!
It was no surprise that Colby was slightly disconcerted when we announced our fine plan to him.. The first of his worries was the uni work he needed to get done, not to mention WORK, which started at 6am the next day!

I distinctively remember saying, “Don’t worry mate, we’ll have you home before dawn”. He seemed reasonably contented with this, but shortly after departing realized that this was a complete hollow, mortifying lie on my behalf. Work would have to wait!

We grabbed an esky and shot off down the road, the dusty red dirt road exploded into the air behind us. “Think we will go to Exmouth” Zac and I decided. Little did we realize that was another 500km in the northern direction, some 1500km from where we started the evening before. “We might as well meet up with Dez then” Colby announced. I had met Dez, down in Albany in 2004.. Another road trip, similar to this one.. Too much beer and a lot of driving! All the same, it was a good idea, and I felt an extraordinary understanding of the term “Comradeship”. Here we were, on Aus day driving an unbelievable distance to drink a beer with the boy’s. No other agenda!

It was increasingly gallant of Colby to agree to such a trip. I mean the two of us were extremely drunk, neither of us knew the limits of the car and we didn’t have any tools to speak of, or water for that fact. No we had a half carton of beer and a carton of bundy.. And this was rapidly being consumed. So you could imagine the surprise and bewilderment when a water hose blew 70km from the closest town! It was hardly a panic situation given that we still had plenty of coldies though.. What was the problem was finding the motivation to not just sit around drinking. This was a trap as we found out a few hours later when we tried to fix it. What would have been a simple job turned out to be painstakingly hard. Zac and I fumbled around with the hose, dropping the tools we had borrowed though the engine bay. Van’s are defiantly the hardest cars to work on, and even harder when you had a skin full. The engine bay was scorching hot, and the outside temperature wasn’t much better. And as we found out later, the temperature was 42 degree’s Celsius! Three hours later, the bus rolled on! A merry cheer and we shoot off down the highway again with the wind blowing through our hair as the car reached some speed. It was some what refreshing, as was the celebratory drinks!

From accidentally peeing in a service station and subsequently being refused service, naked car surfing while overtaking some unsuspecting tourists, chasing sheep through the barren farm land barefoot, swimming naked in the swamp-like pond at the pub, to sleeping in the finest red earth that Exmouth had to offer, just a few of the reckless alcohol induced shenanigans that apparently took place.

Sunday morning felt more like hell than anything else I have ever felt. The temperature was already scorching at first light and our mouths felt like we had done our best to eat as much dirt as we could possibly digest. My whole body ached with pain, and my foot, which I will mention was in a cast still, felt like it had been re-broken in more then ten ways!

Had we found what we were looking for, did we met it with no expectations and consume it whole heartedly?….. YES. We felt proud to be Australian, like the early Europeans that ran cattle across the great central.. The likes of Tom Cole in the 1930’s.. We knew what it was to embrace the harsher climates and enjoy the friendships we had established years ago.

Zac and I arrived home early Monday morning, feeling pretty ordinary and to our amazement we never got arrested (Though the police did tell Zac too “Get off the roids’ mate”). The final tally was 3000km and $800 in fuel and booze.

The only question left, would we do it again? To which I smile, “without a doubt”.

A few weeks latter I was speaking to an old bloke about what we had done, he seemed proud of my rambling, then reminisced and told of his own stories road tripping in the remote area’s around 1965.. “A long neck in hand” he recalled..

Previously posted on Myspace - 18 feb 2008

Pedal powered kayak's

Well today I bring no exciting news, other then I will be relieved of my parents presence this week when the hairy plane carries them far away, to a land so distance it’s unlikely that they could “Pop around for a cup of tea”. Yes they are heading back to WA, only to leave me in peace. Something I have really learnt to appreciate over the last few days I can assure you!

Anyway plans are in motion as Zac the monkey boy and myself set to work figuring out the finer details of our road trip. Quaintly labelled the Alby Mangels Gun Safari; due to kick off on the 26th of October. Like I said.. The finer details, include 50kg’s of rice which which have been accuired from Zac’s mother’s “end of the world” secret stash, a few guns and two Kayak’s. Did I say Kayak? Yes, it would seem at this stage that taking a small powered vessel like a dingy would be rather, well cliché. Why not just pedal to an offshore island like Dirt Hartog on two Kayak’s which are carefully bound together with high tensile twine and two light weight crossbeams? Yes that’s right pedal powered Kayak’s on the high seas!



From my comfy office chair this sounds like it's leading up to be a great adventure with little limits. But then again if our previous escapades are anything to go by, then I imagine limits are just a line made to be jumped at full speed, drunk and semi naked!

Dechchair Cinema, a delightful find!

“All the drinking and stuff is good but I JUST WANNA GO back to WA” – This is the response I received from my house mate when I casually asked him over an email earlier this week whether he would be interesting in staying in darwin. For those that wouldn’t know, my house mate works in the Navy and has been posted in Darwin for approximately a year now. So understandably this place is getting pretty long in the tooth for him. What I find a shame is his perception of what Darwin has to offer. I mean when I arrived I though the drinking was fantastic, but not long after my house mate left (11 week trip to the South Pacific) I found myself without a drinking partner.

In a way, this left me with no other choice but to have a look around and see what else is out there. Something I feel he may not have done. Anyway last night, I ended up going for the usual stroll around Mindil Beach Markets, fantastic place with all sorts of tourist’s wondering around inspecting trinkets set out on an array of stalls. But it wasn’t the hot tourist’s that I was down there for, so I grabbed some food and a Prezzie for my Mum (Mothers Day) and headed off early before it insanely busy. Tonight I had plans. A few weeks ago I noticed a bulletin on the wall in my office. The Water Scout’s present; The Golden Compass @ the Deckchair Cinema’s. It had grabbed my attention, because I had walked past this place a couple of times wanted to check it out. Perfect opportunity. What I knew of the place, is that it’s set out in the opening like the old driving-in Cinema’s, but instead of having the discomfort of your car, they have some deck chairs set out in lines like a traditional cinema. The film itself didn’t seem all that interesting to be honest, but I figured I might as well support the Scout’s and earn some Boss points in the meantime given he, in actual fact was the one who posted the bulletin on the wall.

As luck would have it, Kym the Humanitarian was attending, so istead of having that really awkward I don’t know anyone feeling, I arranged to catch up with her there. This was a relief, I could just imagine what it would be like if I rocked up by myself!

The cinema is situated down near the harbours edge in a hollow just under parliament house. The complex is screened by a dense assortment of flora, which creates a cosy atmosphere once you’re inside, and the low level of lighting only adds to its composition. At the rear of the of the cinema is a small stall which serves a number of beverages including alcoholic refreshments (Handy!), and tonight the Scout’s have some stalls setup with heaps of home made delights including the good ol’ BBQ steak sanga. Kids are running around everywhere in an intense mode of excitement, as little kids do! It gives off some good vibes.

I find Kym and her family behind a stall serving dainty little cup cakes. “Would you like one” they politely offer. Rather not I gesture.. I’d been busy getting into the Lucky Cow down at the markets just earlier. For clarification, the lucky cow is little vegetarian stall that serves up some pretty good tucka. If you’re ever up here, there give it a go. Anyway back to the Cinema’s. I had arrived pretty much just as the movie was starting so we headed off to find our seats. Kym had thought ahead and had us a place in the third row and we sat down; a laid back reclining deck chair with a steal frame and cloth back. At first it felt a little uncomfortable as my eyes where pointing to the sky. Once again Kym came through with a pillow to soften things up, much to my delight.

As the film started, I began to feel at ease and sunk deep into the deckchair. Through the trees on my left I could see the dim lights of the port across the harbour. The orange tinge reflected off the still water in a non-invasive manner. At my feet I noticed a possum scurrying around looking for some food scraps, or maybe a cheeky swig at someone’s unsuspecting beer. And to my left high above the tree’s I could make out the lights of parliament house. Some sort of commotion could be softly heard over the cinema speakers. A few cheers, as presumably another bottle popped its cork.

You know, I’m not sure if in any other surrounding I would feel the same about this movie. Something about being in the bare open, with bugs and stuff flying around that made the film feel so surreal. You couldn’t help but actually feel like you were part of it, which made for a lot more excitement then I think a normal picture box could offer. I would have to conclude this was an absolutely extraordinary experience….

“all the drinking and stuff is good”.

Really?

Darwin Film Festival.. and ramblings

"Alby Mangels - he had a dream to just pack up and go; to see the world. Though his path was uncharted, his inspirational journey became a remarkable narrative of the incredible people he met and fantastic places he saw along the way. The amazing trek that followed allowed the enigmatic Australian traveller to use the world as a stage on his non-stop quest for adventure. A true World Safari! Browse the links below to learn more about this self-proclaimed adventurer, film-maker and conservationist. Discover for yourself why long ago Alby Mangels said: "Travel hasn't satisfied an appetite. It has created one!" What an awesome life!" - http://www.albymangels.com/

Last night I found myself sitting in a quite outdoor alfresco, located in the Nightcliff Mall, Darwin. With me is a gorgeous friend, who I met in a rather bizarre manner. Okay, maybe not that bizarre by my standards but.. nothing wrong with dangling your head out of a pub half tanked, and enquire should a girl walking past like to join you for a beverage, is there? Anyway, Kym the trainee humanitarian sends me a message some time during the day suggesting we get some takeaway and tag along to the Fist Full of Film, short film festival. http://fistfuloffilm.com/

At first I’m rather puzzled, given the population of around 80 000 that make Darwin, I think it would be a rather tough gig pulling enough heads together to make a festival out of it all. But alas I’m not to concerned and figure it should be a nice way to enjoy some culture.

We ordered some Madras lamb form the local Indian Restaurant and carry it over to the Groove Café seating area where the screening is to take place. It’s hard not to notice that the crowd are mainly a bunch of aspiring film makers, who probably make the whole Darwin film industry.. It’s a warm, friendly atmosphere and this probably makes up for the limited resources these guys work with. The evening was one of those balmy, warm nights that make Darwin dry season so famous.

As we settle in, the first few films are screened. And apologies are made. The first couple of films have horrific sound quality, and shocking plot’s which make an overstatement of the feature. But it’s integral to tonight’s screening as we the audience are taken on a journey through Darwin’s relatively short affiliation with film. The curator’s intention is show the past and present in a bid to validate the film maker’s fruition leading up to this year’s entry. They start with the non-digital VHS films that were made in 1999 which gives us reason for the terrible sound. Each year we are shown the Judges choice, along with people’s choice and are happily surprised to see some culturally rich film’s giving an influential sentiment to Darwin life as the night goes on.

One film, which stood out to me follows a homeless bloke as he collects rubbish and places it against the side of the road for collection. For a few years now he has made himself self sufficient taking nothing from the government including the lucrative dole, living off scraps he finds in the bins. He’s an interesting lovable character, who at times seems sightly unstable. But, as the audience learns he is filled with contentment and love for life. Day after day he works those who do not understand him, reassured in the love he finds in God.

Some time during the night I couldn’t help as most people would, feel that I to could enter such a competition. As though I, may have something creative and quirky that other people may wish to see. Or maybe, its just these few hardcore enthusiasts sitting around me. You know that feeling you get when you see a famous painting and think, far out, I could have produced something three times better then that if I tied my hand behind my back, gargled on ginger beer and shoved a tooth bush up my nose! Well unfortunately it’s never quite that easy is it!

So as I watched these films my mind started to wonder, much like those times when mum would take me to church. Conjuring up all sorts of idea’s for films, obviously I as the centre of attention. Maybe I got carried away in my dream, or maybe I haven’t had a reason to wake up just yet. But the idea struck me, and hasn’t left me sense.

The Adventures of Juice (Me) and his Monkey (Being Zac).. Travel the coast, eating and killing while they investigate every nook and cranny of Australia. (Obviously I picture us asking lovely ladies that we meet (refer above method) to join us on our epic adventures, to add that “ka-pow” to the feature film.) Well I can’t really claim this to be a “new” idea though, because if anyone knows anything, they would know Mr Alby Mongels has successfully made this film quite some time ago. And yeah already captured the hearts of many adorable lady’s, oh and fans of course.

But I ask, is it time, that once again two gallant adventures take heed to the publics hunger, and in a damned attempt try to bring back what they wish to see? I guess that doesn’t really matter, because I lazy, unskilled like a ninja and impatience.. so this may just remain as another on one of those Sunday morning dreams.

My phone beeps, it’s a message from Zac; I set a date as to when we gonna leave and you better be ready. 23rd Oct. Yeah boi.

Hmmm.. Guess we’re going, does anyone want to film?

NOTE: While many film makers take the soft edge (Conversationalist) approach like Mr Mangels, or even more recently Steve Irwin and David Attenborough. I feel that this would hinder our film as two young rough necks. Gun’s will be involved, animals will die!!!

Mum's, who wants them?

Okay last week I was talking about shifting around all the time, and what it means for me. What I see and do, maybe it’s not for everyone, but for me I’m happiest when I’m doing something other then the mundane. You know, I kind of wonder if I should have done it years before like most of my friends did. Because sometimes I feel I might be to old, and just maybe I should be settling down.. (as regular readers would now already know; “Marry a good Christen girl, build a house and have a family”). But then I keep having the same realization, if I put it off any longer I’ll miss what I can still enjoy.

This was made somewhat more apparent this weekend. Somehow my mother convinced me that she should visit for a few weeks, and that it was a good idea! Unaware of her intentions, I agreed, but what I was really doing was letting myself be trapped for two weeks. Needless to say I think every mum can be at some stage perceived from this ugly angle. Her good intentions make you feel more like a 12 year old wanting to go outside to play with his toys, rather then the independent 24 year old you might be!

So as you can imagine, I’m half way through the two weeks and already I’m looking for some comfortable hotel just around the corner I might be able to send them to. She’s definitely not helping by pushing her bias uneducated opinion’s on me. I mean my mum is the kind of person who believes every forward she receives on the internet. So when she decides that she could run my life, I find myself rather unconvinced.

Anyway in short, after a fun filled weekend I find it almost unbearable to listen to the continual whine, which sounds more like the dreadful screech of a 2 stroke on full gas then a human being! “I should have done this when I was younger” she suggests, like it’s a new-fangled idea! My head explodes with bewilderment. I mean I swear my old man suggested this for the best part of 20 odd years, and now he suffers in his own resentment! Poor fella!

It’s times like this out in the bush, when the world reveals itself to you through its beauty. The emotion’s come rushing into your heart, and that’s when you make this type of statement. A statement compelled by truth. Here she is, feeling weary from the tiring day’s walk; when she realizes that she can no longer appreciate the fullness of life.

But tomorrow things will be different, as the moment passes, her program will recent. I sit at the other end of the table having lunch in the galleria. She’s harping on again “Marry, house, kids..”. I find this conversation tiring, and I know it only has one type of ending. My step dad does his best to diffuse the situation, but like me, he knows it’s pointless and he tries to keep his comments to himself. Eventually I give up, glance at my phone “I have to get back to work” I say as I get up and leave. I feel her words pierce me as I walk away, and fill me with uncertainty. Of course I care about what she expects from me.. But it’s just not me.

So in this bubble filled with self doubt, I trudge along picking up the pieces the best I can. I keep relying on my own dad’s advice, and his regrets. They feel like my own mistakes and I promise to myself that I won’t make them again.

But on a lighter note, I find myself smiling. I dive into the cool depths of the water hole. It tastes fresh. I hold my breath as I slowly sink to the bottom, there’s nothing, no sound. What a place to be, I’ve never been any where like it. As I surface I see another group of people coming down the rapids. I had actually noticed them earlier, as they circled the car park looking for a spot. It was a group of young back packers, and now they played carelessly in the cool refreshing rapids in front of me. They support nothing other then a small swim suit and a heavenly tan. There bodies glow with health, a reflection of there lifestyle…

I’m spell bound by the thought that a group of random people just picked up and not taking a care in the world start travelling. As i was sitting in the water reflecting I found myslef picturing what it might be like to do something myself. Food for thought, and I’m not sure what it means. Maybe a road trip to end all road trips!

One thing I do know for sure, and that is that I’m leaving Darwin in June… Strangely I don’t want to leave, but the options are weighing heavily towards Perth, as my house mate has decided to leave.

Could be worse I’m thinking. I’m pretty partial to the thought of catching up with a few peeps at the Bakery!

And as for what happens next.. Well there is a rumour that Zac and I could be up for another round of road trip madness in the big blue!!