London loves

Right on!
Right on!

Who says you can’t be an anarchist and a capitalist? Visiting Camden markets the other day I met 15-year-old Rory Ballard, who, as you can see by this lovely sample, will let you take a photo with him for the low-low-low price of one pound.

I had a lovely chat with Rory, who is a top bloke indeed. He says he and his mates – about five or six of them – often hang around the Camden lock bridge offering people the chance to take home a memory with a real life London punk. He says it’s mostly tourists and nostalgic old punks who take him up on the offer.

“You get a few older punks who grew out of it,” he says. “They just look like normal people now.”

Rory says he got into punk music via his older sister. She played him a song by The King Blues called What if Punk Never Happened. A scary thought indeed. We would never have had post-punk. Rory rattled off some of his favourite bands: The Casualties, Leftover Crack, Restarts, The Filaments, Inner Terrestrials, Exploited, GBH.

“I think it’s got something to say,” he says of punk’s appeal. “It’s not just talking about money or drugs.”

Camden markets have certainly cleaned up since I last visited. A labyrinth of wonders, it’s easy to get lost amongst the racks of rock clothing, rock soap and rock cake until you find your way out into the open again via the scent of Peruvian, Moroccan or Ethiopian food. Amongst the twists and turns, the place is now decorated with giant bronze horse sculptures coming out of the walls and floors, representing the stables that used to be there in the 1800s. It’s pretty epic, and while it might add a bit of polish to the once grungy markets that have been there since the 1970s, I think it creates a sense of fantasy and wonder.

Beware of the Cyberdog
Beware of the Cyberdog

One of the hottest establishments is Cyberdog, a future-shock paradise selling out-there club wear that has been around since the turn of the last century. Once found in an underground archway, it now occupies three floors. It’s the only shop I’ve ever seen people queue to get into. Two giant cyber sentries guard the door and once inside, you’re rewarded with the vision of two dancers (one female and one male I’m happy to say) on a high-tiered platform energetically keeping pace to the pumping techno beats. Future fashion has been a self-fulfilling prophecy. I remember in 2001 thinking how much the clothes at Cyberdog represented the 1960s vision of the future: new tactile fabrics, strange padded clothing, wide hoop necklines, Jetsons style dresses. It was 2001, the future had arrived and now the kids were wearing those clothes! Well now it’s 2013, we’re even further into the future and Cyberdog is still selling the same space-age clothes like nothing has changed. Hmn. So we’ve got the outfits, but has the future really arrived? Where are our hoverboards? Where is my hand-held smart device? Oh yes, I lost that.

It might be a capitalist mecca, but Camden is a great place for individual artists and designers to show off their wares. I also chatted to Jeff the Chicago artist who has made London his home and art his living for the last eight years. He mans a stall selling comic artwork somewhere in the mess of stalls and shops. You can check out his art online at killerbunny.co.uk or if you are in London town head to the MCM Comic Con at the end of the month.

What's up Doc?
What’s up Doc?

If the crowds and the chaos gets too much, just a stroll away past the locks, where people gather by the side of the canal snacking on crepes and Turkish pide, you’ll find yourself in utter quiet as you walk along the canal. Canals have been in these parts since the early 1800s when Dingwall’s (now a club) was a lumber yard.

Camden is a tourist destination of course and certainly you’ll hear lots of foreign accents. But they’re guaranteed to be the cool kids, just like you. So, it may be capitalist heaven, but it’s got a heart of solid bronze. And, I’m happy to say, punk’s not dead. Right on, London!

Posted in Adventure, Life, London, Music, Travel | 2 Comments

On a platform: the life of a San Francisco Chronicle columnist

CAILLE MILLNER
CAILLE MILLNER

Her picture and by-line appear on the back page of the San Francisco Chronicle every Friday. In cafes around the city, thoughtful San Franciscans will turn the pages with buttery fingers, masticating on their bagels and cream cheese and forming opinions about the hot topic of the day.

Some are inspired to write back. As a columnist for the city’s major newspaper, Caille Millner gets to express her views on everything from the cosy to the controversial. And for many readers, especially as journalism moves online, that’s a gateway to a conversation.

That means a writer must have thick skin. It’s something Millner has learned ever since she had her first article published in her home town paper, The San Jose Mercury News, when she was 16. She wrote an article about racism at her school and quickly learned the backlash that exposure can bring.

Since then, Millner has forged a career as a quiet commentator, writing a memoir, The Golden Road, about her journey as an African-American in a suburban Hispanic neighbourhood of San Jose to the heights of Harvard and beyond, to living in Berlin and advising the German Chancellery on policy (if only they had listened!) to coming back full circle as a voice of the Bay Area.

In the modern surrounds of The Mill bakery, with the strains of Grimes playing in the background, she sat down with girlreporter.net to discuss life as a “girl reporter” for one of the most respected papers in the US – and show us what’s on her iPod.

What’s it like working at the Chronicle? What’s the buzz in the office like?

You can always tell when something interesting is going on because all of a sudden everybody’s running around a little bit and everybody gets really excited. At the same time we’re a newspaper and we’re going through all the changes that the industry is going through, dealing with questions about what we do with content, online, the internet, how do we sustain ourselves as a business. So we’re gathering news, running around and trying to figure out the big questions at the same time.

Are people excited or scared about what’s happening in newspapers?

It’s been going on for a long time so we’re not as panicked as we were five years ago. Things are stabilising and people are trying different things, paywalls, micropayments, clicks, who knows yet, but at least we feel like we have a basis where we can say, OK, things cannot get too much worse. We still have people who pay for the newspaper itself.

You have to pay people to create content. I was reading a study the other day that said that since online journalism has come out there has actually been less news reporting because so many people are just digesting what everyone else is saying. Of course, that makes sense. It’s a big job to find a story. I’m not sure what the answer is.

As a columnist, you’re putting yourself out there, so everybody feels they have a right to reply. How does it work with your column?

I talked to Meghan Daum, a columnist at the LA Times, before I started and she told me you’re not doing a good job unless people also dislike you. It’s not good to write a column that nobody feels anything about, and it’s true. People are weird, especially on the internet. I do feel like women columnists get it harder; the attacks on us are much more personal. A lot of [the San Francisco Chronicle] readers are older; they think that they don’t want to hear the voice of someone younger for whatever reason, so they tell me that. A lot of the time, they’re very personal, but I don’t take it personally anymore. But it is strange. They talk about what you look like; they say you could never know anything because you’re younger, you’re pretty…

What’s your process in writing a column?

It sort of depends on the week. I try to do a balance of things that are national and local. There’s a process of going out and looking for things, trying to contact people, sometimes praying that something falls into my lap. Sometimes things get decided at the last minute; sometimes they’re set up a long way in advance.

Is there a column that’s gotten the most response?

People will respond when you write about animals. They will respond when you write about technology, especially here. They’ll respond to polls, to questions. It’s funny because I never know what is going to get a response. A lot of times I’m surprised. I wrote a column about shopping in a supermarket and I got a big response from that.

What do you love about San Francisco?

Physically, it’s so beautiful. I love being close to the ocean. I love having the mountains nearby. I love the way the city looks, the hills, the parks, even just walking around my neighbourhood. I like the food, we have great museums. San Francisco’s a fairly small city, we have less than 1 million people but in a lot of ways we have amenities of a much bigger city.

I grew up in San Jose in the South Bay; it’s a million people but it’s fairly quiet. Everyone lives in their family homes and there’s very little to do, which is probably why I started writing because I was bored as a child. I always read and it was the only thing I ever wanted to do. If I’d known as a kid how difficult it was going to be I probably would have done something else. It’s hard to make a living as a writer. It was a real shock to me that not everybody valued books and writing as much as I did. It’s still a real shock to me. It probably always will be!

Do you have favourite writers?

I wrote my thesis on Jimmy Baldwin. I really like Henry James and Cormac McCarthy. I like the German writer W.G. Sebald a lot. And then journalists working today: Jon Lee Anderson, Rebecca Solnit, she’s a local author, she’s great, a really hard worker. Richard Rodriguez is another really wonderful local author.

Are there challenges particular to being a female journalist?

People are not as comfortable with the idea of women having authority, and being any sort of journalist or writer or creator of anything is assuming a position of authority so there’s a certain amount of hostility that goes along with that. That being said depending on what sort of journalism you want to do you it can be in advantage in that different people will probably open up to you than would open up to a man.

Do you think the internet has opened up more platforms for people to talk about feminism?

I think the internet has replicated most of structures that are already within our society. I think the same problems that you see at a societal level you will also see on the internet. And some cases worse because totally anonymous speech can be damaging, particularly to people who are marginalised. So, it’s interesting because the internet was designed to be this renegade platform where everybody would have a voice and what we’re seeing is a lot of structures and hierarchy around who gets to be seen who gets to be heard.

Any particular sites that you follow?

I follow all the news sites, I like tumblr a lot. There are a lot of new voices that have emerged on the internet, but I feel like we’re at a point now where things are becoming institutionalised. There are fewer channels to discover those new voices. Blogging is definitely over, which is a shame. We’re just seeing fewer and fewer people start and keep their own blogs. That individual blog platform is collapsing. I don’t like the internet becoming like television where everybody watches the same channel: an excessive amount of people only check about five sites, and two of them are Facebook and Google, exactly what you’d expect. So I would be sad about losing the internet as a place of discovery.

Do you have any favourite bands?

Here there’s a really great local band called The Tussle; I interviewed them. I’ve been listening to Prince. I’m always listening to Prince. I like the Divine Fits album that came out last year. According my iPod, I’m listening to Dirty Projectors, Jay-Z, Echo and the Bunnymen, Nina Simone and PJ Harvey.

So, go on, Internet, get opinionated.

Posted in Journalism, Music, San Francisco, Travel, Writing | 1 Comment

On the road with Tin House

Reed College
Reed College

For one week each year, two-hundred-and-some word lovers converge on the stunning Reed College campus in Portland, Oregon, for the Tin House Summer Writers Workshop.

This year I was one of them. In the romantic setting of red-brick Harry Potter style buildings surrounded by lush trees, each morning we would roll out of bed, fill our bellies with delicious food and then our minds with lectures, workshops and good conversation. Evenings would be spent chatting over wine and beer, listening to readings from some of the top writers of the day, and occasionally out-cringing each other at karaoke. The jury is still out as to whether poets make better singers than novelists.

Tin House is a rare breed: a successful, engaging, top-of-its-class literary magazine that has been publishing the cream of established and emerging talent since it first launched in its namesake building in Portland around 15 years ago. It also has a books division, which publishes novels, poetry and non-fiction.

Rob Spillman
Rob Spillman

Editor Rob Spillman, who is based out of the magazine’s New York offices, has been with Tin House since the start. By strange co-incidence, I discovered that he would be visiting my home city for our annual Brisbane Writers Festival this year.

Spillman, widely published himself, from GQ to Salon to Rolling Stone magazine, has previously worked for Vanity Fair and The New Yorker. Working with a team of Tin House editors around the world, he is the man who brings us the newest and best writing of the day. He also has exceptional taste – in music as well as books.

Ahead of his visit to Australia, he agreed to chat to girlreporter.net

I’m sitting comfortably, please tell me the story about how Tin House began…

Tin House started in 1998, and has been based out of Portland, Oregon, and Brooklyn, New York from the start. Our publisher, Win McCormack, approached myself and my wife, Elissa Schappell, about the idea and we ran with it.

You receive up to 2000 submissions a month. What grabs your attention in a piece of writing?

One word: Authority. Another way of putting it is that I’m hoping to miss my subway stop because what I’m reading is so engrossing that I look up and I’m in Harlem and I live in Brooklyn. I’m looking to be taken into someone’s world, whether past, present, future, whether experimental or straightforward, with authority.

What makes you reject a piece? What are some common flaws or “rooms for improvement” that you often see?

Lack of confidence. Lack of faith in the reader. A tendency to explain too much, to have everything be neat and tidy, or black and white, which isn’t what life is. I want complication, not simplification.

What authors are you excited about at the moment?

I like genre-defying artists. I’m very excited about anything Maggie Nelson does, particularly loved her book Bluets. Also Rachel Kushner and her novel Flamethrowers, which is the most exciting novel I’ve read in a long time. Along with Dana Spiotta, loved both Eat the Document and Stone Arabia.

What are some of your top tips for breaking into the literary market?

Be a good literary citizen. Support your own–buy books from new writers, go to readings, buy and subscribe to literary magazines. Support the ecosystem you want to be a part of. And, of course, do the work.

There’s a lot of talk about the death of literary fiction. Should we be getting out our violins?

Hardly. I’m very excited about what I’m seeing. Particularly with fiction coming from around the world. I was teaching in Lagos, Nigeria last summer, and I was seeing a lot of vital work. The urge for storytelling is universal, and I’m excited about its possibilities.

Tell us a little more about yourself. Where did you grow up, what writing did you fall in love with and what were your first steps into the publishing world?

I grew up in Berlin, lived there until I was ten. My parents are American classical musicians. I was always surrounded by art, music, and books. I was a voracious reader from early on, but I was also an avid runner. I went to grad school for sports psychology, but dropped out and moved to New York with $150 and no connections, but with the vague idea of working in publishing and starting my own magazine.

What was it like to work for The New Yorker and Vanity Fair?

Exciting and intimidating. The best part was seeing the work of great writers like Joan Didion from start to finish. This was a great eduction.

Who are your all-time favourite authors or books?

The poetry of Elizabeth Bishop. Virginia Woolf’s The Waves. Ken Kesey’s Sometimes a Great Notion. Greil Marcus’s Lipstick Traces; A Secret History of the 20th Century (tracing the origins of punk and Situationism back through history).

Favourite bands or artists?

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (live in NYC in 1990, one of the best shows I’ve ever seen). My Bloody Valentine (also, in top five of live shows, both in 1992, with Pavement opening, and last year). Animal Collective, Sonic Youth (lived around the corner from me in the late 80s, so saw them a million times), Of Montreal, Chemical Brothers. Artists include Gerhard Richter, Zak Smith, Cindy Sherman, and the performance artist Marina Abromovic.

Favourite cities to visit?

I was just in Cuzco, Peru, which I loved. Also just in Florence, which, despite its touristy nature, is fabulous. Berlin, of course, as it is my home town. Lisbon is where I would go to hide out. I found Lagos amazing–incredibly dysfunctional, but wonderfully optimistic and full of life. Lamu, off the coast of Kenya and Somalia, an ancient Muslim trading port, is one of the most magical places I’ve ever been. I fell in love with Melbourne when I went to the festival there a few years ago, so am very much looking forward to seeing Brisbane, where I have never been.

Captive audience
Captive audience

I very much enjoyed my time at the Tin House Writers Workshop. What do you love about it and what were some of your highlights of the past workshop?

We try to surround ourselves with the best writers who also play well with others. It only works because the faculty all support each other, go to each other’s lectures, so there is a cumulative effect. I leave very inspired. Some of the highlights include Denis Johnson, Wally Lamp, and Deborah Eisenberg taking a Raymond Carver story and turning it into a play. Any reading by Dorothy Allison, Joy Williams, Jim Shepard, and Karen Russell.

***

So Brisbane, make sure you head down to the Writers Festival this year, from September 3-9. Tin House alumni, I’d love to know your workshop highlights. And literary fiction, moribund or death-defying? Discuss.

Posted in Adventure, Journalism, Music, Portland, Travel, Writing | 2 Comments

Portland: a taster plate

Bee quiet!
Bee quiet!

The shot glass I picked up at the airport said Keep Portland Weird. And that lovingly expresses everything that is different about Portland, Oregon. This is a place where a bookstore – Powell’s, the largest in the world – beats as its cultural heart, where kitchen gardens, growing raspberries, blueberries and kale, abound in every suburban street and people don’t just hug trees they develop intimate, long-lasting relationships with them.

This is where you’ll spot bearded hipsters in their natural habitat. Tattoos are practically a birthmark. And just as often as not it’s the mums, not the toddlers, who are sporting fairy wings. When people run away *from* the circus they come to Portland. Here alternative is the mainstream.

My pre-visit impressions were pretty much based on the sketch comedy show Portlandia, and the fact that it was the Dandy Warhols’ home town. The city did not disappoint. Apparently, the show divides people, but I’m sure I saw some of the characters, such as the dude with the big ear thingies riding by on his bike, and even met some of them. My couch surfing host openly confessed to being “that person who asks where and how the chicken she’s about to eat was raised and who its brothers and sisters and parents were”, and I witnessed this in action at an outing to the awesomely weird, art-smeared hotel Edgefield to the patience of an ever-tolerant waiter.

Put a sticker on it
Put a sticker on it

But Portland people care. They ride bikes everywhere and are actively thinking of alternatives. There’s a scheme here where if you don’t use your car often you can earn money by letting other people use it. I met so many transplants to the city, not just locals, people who moved here because they loved the ethos, the pace of life, the city that’s not a city.

Artistically, musically, literally, there’s a lot going on. Sure, the dream of the ’90s might be alive in Portland, according to the show, but Portland is a place whose time is now. If New York shone in the jazz age of 1920s and San Francisco influenced the world with its hippy ethos in the 1960s, Portland really feels like a city coming into its own. “Remember Portland in the 2010s?” they’ll say. “Man, that place rocked.”

Portland also offered my first taste of couch surfing and now I’m a total convert. On a sunny day I rocked up to a stranger’s house, let myself in and found myself in a tidy, warm home, with no one about but two cats. I felt like Goldilocks. Who was this person who lived here? This person was AMAZING. A beautiful home, books including Vonnegut, Joseph Campbell, Penny Arcade, Alain de Botton, Eloise, a door covered in comic strips. I felt more at home than in my own home. I later found out that this ideal person was actually an amalgamation of all the personalities in the house, and all amazingly lovely and generous people. I was taken out to try Viking pancakes at the local “food carts”, an institution here (think street fair but quirky and weird) and to attend “beer church”, where a group of philosophers have been meeting and discussing the meaning of life for years, while they quietly show us how to live it.

Sitting down to read
Sitting down to read

Most tourists to Portland visit the beautiful Japanese Garden and Rose Test Garden, with great views of the city and Mount Hood, but the No. 1 stop on the tourist route is Powell’s “city of books”. This behemoth medina of knowledge occupies a full city block and several floors in the centre of town. It’s a tourist mecca. And it’s fascinating that a bookstore – supposedly a moribund entity – is a city’s cultural and spiritual hub. It’s around this bookstore that all the barnacles of tourist traps, like Starbucks and gift stores, have clung. The store is so successful it even has shops at the airport. Walking through its labyrinthine shelves is a treat: invigorating and calming. It’s almost spiritual. In the coffee shop the faithful sit in reverence, experiencing communion with a cup of coffee, buried in their own private bibles.

Hey Mr Balloon man
Hey Mr Balloon man

Of course, it’s the people that make the place. At the Saturday market by the river I met a guy named Stone who made balloon animals. A member of gypsy band Underscore Orkestra, he’d been robbed of all his gear and possessions on tour in France and was trying to earn a dollar to get on the road again. Throw him a coin or two by visiting the band’s website and tell them they should come to Woodford.

My comics buddy had recommended, by way of sending me a comic, that I go to a place called Devil’s Point. Yeah, yeah… but by an odd turn of events I wound up there. I headed out one night to see Bauhaus singer Peter Murphy (he follows me around). I missed the show but ended up finding two crazy New Romantics, one a DJ, who ended up taking me on a memorable adventure. They took to Devil’s Point, where DJ Kenoy works, for Sunday night Stripparaoke. If that sounds like stripper karaoke, that’s because it is. Watching a sweet couple howling an out-of-tune versions of Somebody that I Used to Know while a physically gifted women twirls around a well-loved pole is something I’ll never forget. Apparently there are more strippers per capita in Portland than any city in the US. Perhaps they get treated well, here? Later that night, my new friends took me to a private party at an empty S&M dungeon (not as scary as it sounds) where, as the only non-stripper female, I was invited to partake in an “octopus”. This, I discovered, is ladies-only ritual where all the women rub their boobs in the birthday girl’s face. I politely declined, but hey, I was flattered to be asked.

Speaking of segues, Portland has a huge outdoor culture too. The city is surrounded by Oregon’s wondrous landscape: forested gorges, waterfalls, mountains. Summer is brief, but sweet, and when it comes the Portlandians hit it hard. They float in “inner tubes”, giant tires, down the river. I live in a river city. Why don’t we do that, Brisbane? My couch surfing host kindly took me on a drive up the gorge where we stopped at the famous Multnomah Falls. Apparently, one year a huge boulder came down splintering off to hit the groom of a nearby wedding party in the nads. Fortunately, according to his new wife, he was still able to perform his conjugal duties.

The Willamette River
The Willamette River

My Portland experience complete, I happily boarded the plane with my shot glass souvenir. I was hoping to hunt down a bearded hipster to put as a trophy head on my wall, but I am a committed vegetarian. So, Portland, something to write home about. Now, tell me good folks of Internetlandia, what’s your favourite city and why? And Brisbane, tell me why we don’t float down the river?

Posted in Adventure, Comics, Life, Music, Portland, Travel | 9 Comments

I went to the fair and I bought… an award-winning deep-fried pineapple upside down cake on a stick

It's a BBQ truck
It’s a BBQ truck

The Alameda County Fair was not on my to-do list, but with rides, strange and wonderful deep-fried foods on sticks and a free concert by Weird Al Yankovic, well, who could say no?

The County Fair, located somewhere in the expanse of the Bay Area, is pretty much like our Royal Exhibition, or the “Ekka” as we call it in sunny Queensland: a two-week long event where all the farmers come to town, producers show their wares and teenagers get drunk and throw up on rides and make out behind bushes. Or is it the other way around?

Bunnies, there must be bunnies!
Bunnies, there must be bunnies!

The only differences were that what we call dagwood dogs they call corn dogs, where we have chickens in cages, they have BUNNIES (illegal in my home state unless you have a magician’s licence) and they have gun security checks at the main gate. Not without reason, considering an unfortunate Fourth of July incident from a few years back.

Enter the gates and you are bedazzled by a cavalcade of sights and smells: giant rides, giant hot dogs and giant kids eating giant hot dogs on giant rides.

Stuffies!
Do not eat the donuts!

But it wasn’t all award-winning deep-fried pineapple upside down cakes on sticks. I had a rather delicious veggie burger from a place called Stuffie’s Char-Broiler. But don’t be fooled. Stuffie’s order of choice was a DONUT BURGER, which is a meat patty with lettuce and tomato served on a GENUINE Krispy Kreme donut bun (I keep accidentally spelling that right). But, before you ask, don’t worry, it doesn’t come with onions. AS IF!

There were many locals lining up to try this curious delicacy. Most of them had never had it before. There was a sense of nervous excitement in the air.
“I don’t like tomatoes,” one customer said with trepidation.
“Don’t worry,” the server reassured. “I don’t like ’em either, but you can’t even taste them.”
Well, thank goodness for that. Who wants a watery tomato fouling up the deliciousness of my sugar-fat-meat combo?

Children should be kept in bubbles
Children should be kept in bubbles

The fair had a delightful atmosphere. It was great to walk around and see a sea of smiling faces as well as smacking lips. And to crown the day was the treat of seeing Weird Al perform live in the large amphitheatre. It was an evening of joy shared across generations. I was lucky enough to interview Sir Weird a year or so ago, and he was the ultimate gentleman. As Homer Simpson says, “He who is tired of Weird Al is tired of life”. Well, I’m not tired of neither. So bring it on!

This blog was brought to you by:

The original bugs bunny
The original bugs bunny
What it says
What it says
Posted in Adventure, Life, Music, San Francisco, Travel | Leave a comment

The dream of the ’90s is alive in Brisbane

I was recently inspired to reconsider the old “all my friends are leaving Brisbane” question, after reading an article by Bridie Jabour, over at the new Guardian Australia.

She talked about the mass exodus of young people. But I think Brisbane is the kind of town people can easily stay in: a comfy deck chair in the sun, lean back, relax and you’re never going to want to get out.

Brisbane, like many home towns, has a yo-yo effect. People leave and come back. I did. There’s a hot and sticky glue to this Pleasantville paradise. It’s easy to get stuck here, to melt into the pavement, to not move.

BRISBANE, A VISUAL POEM.
BRISBANE, A VISUAL POEM

But the city has changed a lot. It’s blossomed in ways that’s surprised me (and not just the jacarandas). I always say that by the time I move to Sydney or Melbourne, Brisbane will be Sydney or Melbourne, and it’s coming true: laneway cafes, hipster bars, GoMA… There’s heaps going on, take the 24-hour comic challenge I was involved in last weekend. I’ve never seen so many productive people. I know many artists and musicians who love it here and choose to stay. Jeremy Neale of Velociraptor is a loud-and-proud Brisbane ambassador . “My friend calls these a passport shredder days,” he told me, looking outside the window on a sunny day when we did a story on Brisbane’s rising stars. Certainly many bands have said you don’t need to leave town to “make it” anymore. And that’s a great thing. The Stress of Leisure’s recent record Cassowary (a true tropical bird) drips with a humid love for the city. But even the title of that band – the Stress of Leisure – sums up Brisbane’s fatal flaw, its catch. It’s a bit *too* easy.

Paradise Brisbane can be a bit of a siren’s trap. That comfy deck chair can be just a bit too comfy, a bit too laid-back, a little too inviting of apathy. US TV show Portlandia has a fantastic song about the overlooked city of Portland, somewhere, culturally and geographically, between San Francisco and Seattle. “The Dream of the ’90s is Alive in Portland” the song goes. “Sleep till 11/you’ll be in heaven…”

“Portland is a city where young people go to retire.” Well, that song could easily apply to Brisbane!

Certainly, I know plenty of people who are content to be content. But, then, what’s wrong with being content? Maybe striving is overrated. The internet is full of people striving to be peaceful. Maybe making art and music is about being with friends, not on the covers of magazines or on massive stages. (Not that there aren’t plenty of keen Brisbanites going for that goal.)

Maybe Brisbane has struck the pace of life that everyone else is looking for?

Brisbane has definitely out-grown its country-town diapers, that’s true. (And really, that joke is getting old.) I do think we can be a bit navel gazing as a city at times. Constantly reprising our own history to prove that we have one. Constantly re-praising all the same seminal bands that came from here. (You know the ones.) “Look New York, Berlin! We have a navel too!” Way too many poems about jacarandas and verandas. But hey, write what you know.

I think the world is there to be explored. Physically or through media, books, culture… whatever is your bag. Personally, I’m all for trying different dishes before deciding that your nan’s home cooked comfort-pie might possibly be your favourite. (Of course, all this talk is a first world luxury. We’re all lucky that we can choose where we live. And the non-adventurers among us are probably leaving less of a carbon footprint.)

So, Brisbane, the most comfortable pillow I know. But what do you think? Do you love it or “just like” it? Is it a relationship you’ve outgrown or one you never want to leave. Let me know!

Posted in Adventure, Brisbane, Life | 8 Comments

Comics digest

This Saturday is the Comikaze 24 Hour Comic Challenge. “What’s that?” I hear myself asking on behalf of you. It’s Australia’s version of 24 Hour Comics Day, where intrepid writers and artists challenge themselves to create a full 24-page comic book in only 24 hours.

A bunch of brilliant Brisbane comic creators will be holing up in Ace Comics and Games in Annerley this weekend. You can come along, see them work and cheer them on, and maybe even buy them a coffee, but don’t poke the cages.

Myself and my comics buddy Dan Gilmore, artist for LUV (www.ilikeluvcomics.com), will be going along to try to make magic. (We hope to at least make coffee.)

Here is a before shot of Dan taken at South Bank last weekend.

DanPC

The comic book scene in Brisbane is strong, as I’m learning more and more. Recently I went along to Free Comic Day for which I got to interview two lovely artists Matthew Hoddy and Caitlin Major who released the epicly rad print book Space Pryates thanks to a Pozible campaign.

I was also lucky to meet artists and writers who are doing all sorts of varied stuff, from saucy anime (Sparkling Generation Valkyrie Yuuki) to Viz inspired gag humour (Despicable Man) to a space-age story with its own soundtrack (Sage Escape).

I got another surprise in the mail this week: the printed copy of Rat Park, another Pozible success story. Rat Park is a fascinating tale about little-known drug experiments done on rats in the 1970s, which throws new light on everything you thought you knew about addiction. Stuart McMillen’s cute images and easily digestible story telling make for fun and informative reading. He’s been translated into several languages, don’t you know. You can find out more at stuartmcmillen.com.

Another event you should put in your calendar is ZICS, the 2013 Zine and Indy Comic Symposium (August 30-Sept 1) in which the powers of zines and comics combine in one fun and info-packed weekend at Brisbane’s The Edge. (Sadly, I’ll be in the northern hemisphere. Anyone know any cool comic event / groups / places of pilgrimage I should check out?)

So, there’s heaps going on in this here town, and you should come on down and check it out this Saturday from 10am. There may be magic, there may be carnage. There will be coffee.

Posted in Adventure, Brisbane, Comics | 7 Comments

Oh, Vienna

MidgeThe Blitz club in London is where the 1980s was born. It was where young New Romantics (though you didn’t dare call them that then) in make-up and hairspray outdid each other on the dance floor. Steve Strange of Visage was the strictest doorman in history, even turning away an underdone Mick Jagger. And a young Boy George took your coats (and then rifled through the pockets – his own admission!).

One man on the scene was Midge Ure, lead singer of Ultravox, who hit the big time with the unforgettable song Vienna. He also co-wrote Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas? as well as having a successful solo career and playing with Visage and Thin Lizzy. He’s touring Australia right now, and I got to chat to him ahead of his visit.

He recently broadcast a documentary on the Blitz for Radio 4 in Britain, which is a fascinating listen. Here’s a s little excerpt of our chat. The article originally published in The Sunday Mail, where he talks about the making of the Vienna video and Ultrovox’s unlikely reunion and new album follows.

Q: Tell me what making the documentary was that like. Was that a trip down memory line?

Midge Ure: Yeah, it was. I’ve done quite a few programs for Radio 4. It’s kind of a badge of honour for me to read for Radio 4 and The Blitz was one of them. It was great. It was very interesting going back and trying to relive how it all came about. A lot of people who weren’t around at the time, they look at it and think it was incredibly glamorous.

Of course, it wasn’t. It was incredibly a very tough time. It was the factory years. People were doing three-day weeks. People didn’t have jobs. And The Blitz came out of that deprivation really. You had to make something wonderful out of the very little that you had and that’s what happened. All these like-minded people went to one little club. Because the club’s just a room. What makes it interesting is the people in the room and all these interesting arty characters there. John Galliano standing next to Boy George. Just this great mix of people. Just like any genre will have the club that they’re supposed to go to. In the 60s, it would have been The Cavern Club. So it just happened to be The Blitz in the ’80s.

Q: Do you remember first going there?

Ure: I don’t remember the first time I went there. I went there an awful lot. We used to play at The Blitz. There was a little club called Billy’s and Rusty Egan and Steve Strange took this club over one night a week can called it A Club for Heroes. They used to play all the music that we were listening to, that was coming out of Germany with the rock-synth music, a bit of David Bowie, all of these things mixed together. It got so popular they moved it from that club to The Blitz and of course, that was when the media found out about it all and of course, they made The Blitz very famous.

Q: So could you describe a typical night for me, like walking up through the door what you might see around you?

Ure: Well, I think the first thing you would see is a bunch of people waiting to get in who weren’t allowed in because the door’s policy was dreadful. They’d sit on the door and say, “You, you, you, you can come in. You, you’re not getting in wearing that.” You’d enter this place and see all these kids all dressed up looking like movie stars. Some were completely outrageous, wearing like bed sheets and with loads of makeup. Others were in 40s retro clothes. They’d gone into their granny’s wardrobes and dug out whatever they could get and just looked absolutely fantastic.

In a way, it was the antithesis of what had come before which was the punk thing where it was all messy, ripped t-shirts, whatever. And the kids who started the punk look were the ones who started The Blitz. They were the ones who moved on, the instigators. When it became high-street fashion, they moved onto something else so they started this whole thing with The Blitz, this retro look. The moment that became fashionable, they moved onto something else. That’s what happened. That seems to be an evolving thing.

Q: Obviously so many people, like Spandau Ballet, Boy George and yourself got famous while that club was in existence. How did that change things? Did the famous people keep going to the Blitz once they were famous?

A: I think they did keep going. Again, it moved on. The Blitz became too small and it moved on to Camden Palace, which was a massive venue. It used to hold two and a half thousand people as well. That became a massive big thing. It kind of started tapering off at that point so that the people who had instigated that had moved onto other things. The people who had become famous had moved on with their careers so they were away touring all the time. It changed like all these things do. You can’t keep it encased in glass and it will stay like that forever. It has to evolve and sometimes to evolve, the things that make it work move away and that kind of happened to them.

Midge Ure is touring Australia right now! Details here.

Midge Ure Sundail Mail Article

Posted in Journalism, Life, Music | 1 Comment

The March Slump

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. My password at work at the start of the year was HappyNewYear! Full of positive energy and promise. Packed with power and enthusiasm for the year ahead. A burst of encouragement to get me going when I typed it into my work computer each day. Yeah! 2013! Bring it on!

A couple of months later I had to change it again. I wrote: MarchOnMarchOn.

It was March, of course. But that’s exactly how I felt. Motivation low, progress slow, not as far along as I wanted to be. Nothing really to show for it. The enthusiasm had dwindled and what was left was the drudgery, the effort to keep going.

Tip #17 Find a buddy. Early morning yogas with Helga and Domino
Tip #17 Find a buddy. Early morning yogas with Helga and Domino

I’d reached a plateau.

In January, I wrote about New Year’s resolutions. Sure, they’re daggy, but at the start of the year I genuinely feel fresh and keen. Then something happens. Time happens, life happens, and the goals sort of slip into a big vague pudding. What were they again? Where is that piece of paper I wrote them down on?

I am going to call this the March Slump.

That’s the bit where it gets boring, or hard, or repetitive, you can’t be bothered or you just don’t feel you’ve got it in you. The bit where you’re lying on the couch eating Cheezles in front of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries and thinking you’re never going to write your own mystery novel. And this is exactly where you shouldn’t give up! Right? Because reaching goals isn’t just about enthusiasm and reward, it’s also about getting through the bleugh and the blah.

Maybe you’re not “on time and on budget”. (Who ever is, Kevin McCloud?) But you’re probably further along than you think.

If you reach a plateau stop and admire the view.

Recently I re-read The Great Gatsby and was delighted and surprised to read Gatsby’s self-improvement list. It’s fascinating.

Rise from bed … 6.00 A.M.
Dumbbell exercise and wall-scaling … 6.15-6.30
Study electricity, etc … 7.15-8.15
Work … 8.30-4.30 P.M.
Baseball and sports … 4.30-5.00
Practice elocution, poise and how to attain it … 5.00-6.00
Study needed inventions … 7.00-9.00

GENERAL RESOLVES
No wasting time at Shafters or [a name, indecipherable]
No more smoking or chewing
Bath every other day
Read one improving book or magazine per week
Save $5.00 [crossed out] $3.00 per week
Be better to parents

Be better to parents: how adorable! On most things (except for bathing) he’s got me beat. But it shows that 100 years on, human beings are not that different. The Internet is full of motivational sites and self-improvement blogs. We monkeys are always trying to be better monkeys – perhaps that’s why we’re not actually monkeys anymore.

So, where am I? My goals for the year (aside from wearing all the clothes I never wear in my wardrobe. Neverwhere: Neil Gaiman book or Sally’s wardrobe?) were:

– Finish novel by July (the one started in November, thanks to NaNoWriMo)
– Get my webcomic online (this is not LUV, illustrated by the talented Dan Gilmore, but one I’m trying to draw myself – and I left my drawing skills in primary school!)
– Aim to do at least 20 minutes of yoga every day (thanks Arthur and DDP!)

Where is the novel? My characters are looking at their watches and yawning like idle avatars in a computer game. Where is the comic? A bunch of stick figure scratchings in a pile I think I saw my cat sitting on. (Random fur not to be confused with stick figure anatomy – why does this guy have three arms??) Where is my body of steel? Somewhere beneath this protective coating of flab.

So, I’m not as far along as I want to be. Looking back at the past couple of months, I’m roughly where I was before. But, wait a minute, let’s look at that again. In the last two months: I have been working on my comics or my novel every weekend and I have been doing yoga almost every day.

That’s a big tick. Change is incremental. As someone once told me, if you want the ship to move from here to way over there, first you’ve got to turn the rudder. A big change is made up of lots of tiny changes. One small step for man, one billion other tiny steps by men and women behind the scenes that no one really talks about.

So March is all about keeping on keeping on. And in fact, I learned a thing or two about March. It used to be the start of the Roman calendar. It’s named after the God of War. And it was the time when the snows melted and the Roman army would ready their troops to march on. So really, it’s a chance to begin again.

So if you’re in a slump, time to stand up and keep marching. Like a kitten on a warm blanket.

PS For those of you who posted about your New Year’s Resolutions, can you tell me how those are getting along? Recipes made? Tea cozies knitted? Episodes of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries watched? I want to know!

PPS Crap – better change my work password tomorrow. Any suggestions?

Posted in Goals, Life | 5 Comments

Adventures in Googleland

You won’t know it’s there if you walk right by it. There are no signs outside. No big colourful letters or location pointers. But it’s there. Right on the edge of Sydney’s waterfront, where the water laps at the old piers, and seagulls peck at the remains of chips left by tourists, somewhere in there is Google Sydney HQ.

The author finds a new beat.
The author finds a new beat

Recently I travelled down to Sydney to see the band Dead Can Dance perform a stunning reunion show at the Opera House. But it wasn’t the only highlight of the trip.

A friend who works at Google volunteered to take us on a tour of their secret headquarters. While it may have a hidden entrance, once you enter the lobby, you’ll see the tell-tale letters on the wall:
G o o g l e

Google occupies the top floors of the building, and at every turn there were stunning views, the asymmetric hallways flooded with light, like a happy labyrinth. Our journey took us past music rooms, games room and countless coffee nooks (well, that’s what really powers Google) filled with bountiful supplies: baskets of chips, muesli bars and snacks.

“For free?” I turned to my guide, who nodded sympathetically. I snaffled a few into my bag. What bounty! What freedom! It was like a Russian person coming to the West.

The ladies bathroom was stocked full of deodorant and moisturiser. I used everything I could and even took a few Google tampons as souvenirs.

A computer-game maze of hallways led to strange and wonderful things: programmers sleeping in hammocks, designers playing ping pong, and a few people getting work done too. At every turn there were those cool power-ups: coffee and snacks. It was a Willy Wonka dream. I remember something about a bath table, bouncy chairs and a fish tank wall, though I may be getting mixed up with episodes of Twin Peaks I have been watching lately.

There’s no such thing as a free lunch. There is if you work at Google. In the colourful canteen we piled our plates high with more salads than at Sizzler, supped on iced tea and soothed our bellies with gourmet ice cream while looking at views that only top execs can afford. It was a bit like the Ikea canteen if it had good views and good food and was full of well-paid geeks. I scanned the room for future husbands.

Half the staff were wearing Google shirts – of course they get them for free, but what does that say about company loyalty?

Posters on the walls talked of game projects and 20 per cent time – that’s where Google employees get to use one day a week to work on, apparently, WHATEVER THEY WANT. I hear some of their best ideas began this way.

I can’t actually tell you about any of the WORK that was getting done at Chez Google, because then I’d have to kill you, or possibly myself. But there were definite areas that were off-limits to humble visitors and nosy journalists like myself.

***

This wasn’t the first time I’d found myself at Google. Years ago, when I was visiting a boyfriend in Palo Alto, California (I know where the geeks are), I was wandering around the back streets of nowhere looking for a swimming pool I had found in the Yellow Pages (wow, that takes me back).

The place I had nominated for my swim (it was listed under PUBLIC SWIMMING POOLS) turned out to be some kind of religious establishment and although they were kind, they looked at me with their deep, sympathetic yet suspicious ‘what are you doing here lost Australian girl?’ eyes.

After taking a look at the pool, and all parties silently agreeing this had been a mistake, I began to make my way back to civilisation. Or at least I tried to. But getting back to Main Street in this public transport deficient part of the world proved a challenge.

I wandered the empty, person-less streets for ages, scenes of industrial buildings and empty houses repeating themselves like in a computer game. The blisters on my feet were a distraction from my slowly forming sunburn.

I dreamed of a street with shops that might offer a cool glass of water or a street with an actual ‘sidewalk’, presuming somewhere people do walk in the US. Then as my dreams turned to hallucinations, I had a vague sense of something familiar. I found myself walking past some very big letters: e l g o o and G.

Google headquarters! It was like an oasis in the desert. A cultural mirage. The Emerald City at the end of the yellow brick road (with no sidewalk). There was something strangely exciting about it.

There is no real point to this story. I’m not sure *which* offices they were and I doubt I could locate it now on map. OK, maybe I could with Google street view. And I never went inside. But I do now have a friend who works there so I hope to make it there should I visit San Francisco later in the year as planned.

So, dear Google, if you are googling yourself and come across this blog, can you do something about my rankings please? What was that? Talent and regular content, you say? Shut uuup!

PS. Do you know that in South America they call it el Goog? No, they don’t, but they should.

Posted in Adventure, Geeks, Life | 2 Comments