Views expressed here are mine, or those of people I've overheard. They are not the views of my employer or clients.

My love of playing guitar is greater than my longing to have manicured hands like other adult women.
Blisters on my left hand are from playing bass, grazes on my right hand from playing an acoustic. Shred life.

I played at a house show in North Rockhampton on Australia Day, along with Lockjaw (pictured above). The small punk/hardcore  community here makes me feel so excited and so hopeful about life and creativity. I think there’s a lot to be said for the punk ethic of just jumping in and getting shit done.

The rains have come a few months late, which is fine by me. In fact, I wouldn’t have minded if they’d taken a year off after last year’s floods.
Not long after I took this photo, a tree in my front yard was struck by lightning and crashed down where my car usually stands. Ah, Queensland.

The first Benjamin Family Circus for 2012 happened in Brisbane this weekend for my Granny’s 80th birthday.
My cousin Dommie put together a wonderful book of Granny’s life, featuring research my sister and I had worked on. I’ve written about Granny’s life before - it’s certainly been eventful.
Here’s Dad reading a letter he wrote to Granny (his mother) when he was four years old, which my cousin had put into the book.
My siblings and Granny are laughing because he isn’t sticking to the script.

I spent a large amount of time arguing with Vodafone this week. I’ve been with them since late 2005 and was really happy with their service until around 18 months ago. My Android phone has bricked itself for the third time in its 18 months of existence and since Rocky doesn’t have a Vodafail shop, I’ve been forced to use the relic pictured above for phone calls and texts.
I can’t do battle with their call centre as their service drops every second call I make. Yep, it’s really that bad. I’ve been communicating with their social media team and emailed their tech support with a job number, but haven’t received any contact in 4 days. Telecommunications ombudsman, here I come.

More pics of everything over at Flickr.

Original Article

I was an incredibly nerdy bookworm all through my early childhood and primary school.
I had the reading age of a 16-year-old by the time I was five, and I remember being taken up to the Year 3’s classroom when I was in Year 1, so they could see how badly they were being owned by one of the smallest Year 1s in the school.
Unfortunately this led to some pretty hectic bullying, which I tried to avoid by spending all my lunch breaks in the school library. Having no friends also left me with plenty of spare time, which I spent volunteering at the local town library after school.
Yes, I really was that much of a nerd.

I ditched recreational reading throughout most of my teens. This was mostly because I’d been seduced by learning guitar and music in general, although going to boarding school meant I had friends and therefore a social life for the first time ever.
While music and I have had some great times, I’m stoked to be reading regularly again.
Once a nerd, always a nerd.

Here are some of the reads of last year that have stuck with me. You can check out my favourite reads of 2010, if you’re super-keen.

BOOKS

John Joseph - ‘Evolution of A Cro-Magnon’

This is the autobiography of John Joseph - the former frontman of  seminal NYC hardcore band Cro-Mags, a devoted vegan and Hare Krishna.
Joseph spent his childhood and adolescence in and out of abusive foster homes and juvenile detention, with stints of homelessness, violence and drug dealing peppered in between.

Afer deserting the Navy, Joseph found himself hanging out with hardcore royalty Ian MacKaye and Henry Rollins. He also met the notoriously wacky H.R. from Bad Brains, who sparked his interest in spirituality.

Joseph’s stories are intense, unbelieveable, hilarious and tragic. He is clearly nostalgic for a New York that no longer exists, back when Guidos and drug dealers ran the place instead of the real estate agents that hold the city hostage now.
There are plenty of things Joseph says that I don’t necessarily agree with, but that’s the beauty of a good, honest autobiography - the subject is protagonist, antagonist and fifth business all at once.

Malcolm Knox - ‘The Life’

I’ve been a big fan of Knox’s non-fiction work for a while now, and I’m happy to report his fiction is just as fantastic.
The Life tells the story of Dennis Keith, a former pro surfer who is now on the disability pension and living in a retirement village with his elderly mother on the Gold Coast.
What happened to knock him from the top of the world into a passive existence? Why is his brother in prison? What does his mother know and why isn’t she letting on?
The Life is heartwrenching, funny and gripping. What a combo.

 Buy from Booktopia.

Ange Takats - ‘The Buffalo Funeral’

A self-published gem, The Buffalo Funeral is a memoir by singer-songwriter and reformed journalist Ange Takats about her time working as a video journalist in Thailand.
Leaving Sydney for adventure in south-east Asia at just 22 years of age, Takats finds herself supplementing her meagre paycheck by playing covers gigs in seedy bars, with two local musicians taking her under their wing.
Battling recalcitrant camera-men, a dodgy boss and a bit of a language barrier, her work life is just as interesting - not to mention frustrating.
One of the few memoirs written by a person under the age of 35 that is actually worth reading.

Buy here.

Anna Funder - ‘All That I Am’

Set in Germany in the years leading up to World War II, All That I Am tells the story of a small group of anti-Nazi activists, who fled Berlin for the relative safety of Britain to continue their campaign against the evils of the Nazi Party and Hitler.
Based on the true story of the author’s (now deceased) friend Ruth Blatt, the novel’s a great insight into a part of history that gets skimmed over.
Author Anna Funder has been at great pains to point out that it is a work of fiction, but has included a big list of research sources at the end - just in case you wanted to get nerdier.

You can hear an interview with Funder on Conversations with Richard Fidler here.

Buy from Booktopia.

MORE GREAT BOOKS:

“When It Rains” by Maggie MacKellar (Buy)
“Our Band Could Be Your Life” by Michael Azzerad (Buy)
“Bossypants” by Tina Fey (Buy)
“Dirty Deeds” by Mark Evans (Buy)

ZINES

Wasted Opportunities #1

Wasted Opportunities is pretty simple as far as zines go - black and white photocopies, scrawled front cover and Q&As with bands. It works though, and is one of the most refreshing fanzines I read last year.
This first issue also has an interview with Andy Hayden, who runs the excellent Poison City record label (and the Poison City Weekender) .

 Get your free copy here.

‘Support’

From what I remember of Sex Education at school, we were taught about different types of contraception and to make sure we weren’t pressured into sex. When I write it out like that it seems a little inadequate, but like many things you can’t really teach sex through theory and book work.

We definitely didn’t discuss consent in great detail, or the horrors of sexual abuse and their long-ranging effects.
Support is full of advice and things to think about with regards to friends and lovers who are dealing with recovery from sexual abuse. It manages to be informative without being preachy and doesn’t get too bogged down in wanky feminist/queer/survivor constructs.

In an ideal world there would be no sexual abuse for people to deal with, but considering this world is less than ideal, it’d be great to see some of the content in this zine adopted in the Sex Ed curriculum.

Maybe one day.

Buy it online.

Rocket Queen #1 & #2

Rocket Queen is a two-part series of zines written by the eponymous stripper Janet.
Unlike the more famous Diablo Cody, Janet started stripping for monetary reasons.

“On the whole, I feel less degraded stripping than I have doing any other kind of work,” she explains early into zine one.

“At least now I’m my own boss. I don’t have to talk to any customer that’s pissing me off, I can be lazy and lie around if I don’t feel like working.”

Anyone who’s worked in hospitality or retail can relate to that.

During the first zine, Janet is working in a strip club in a small tourist town. The second zine sees her moving to New Orleans to take part in the the Mardi Gras and the generally robust sex industry the city is famous for.

Along with all that, Janet talks about the archetype of the sacred whore, embarrassing stripping moments, and the important place sex work has in society.

If you ever wanted an inside account of stripping without self-conscious self-deprecation or vapid pleasantries, you should read this.

I bought this zine from Smells Like Zines earlier in the year. I can’t find it online, but if you get in touch I’m sure Elouise will be able to sort it out for you. It’s well worth the effort.

Learning To Surf

I mowed through this zine in one sitting. Not because it’s thin, but because the writing was just that good.
Featuring musings on Superchunk, James Taylor, Black Wine and the Minutemen, Mike Faloon makes writing about music look easy, which it’s not.
I found out about this zine through the Revenge of Print Facebook group, which encouraged people to make at least one zine during 2011.

Buy it here and chuck a couple of extra $ in for postage if you live in Australia.

MORE GREAT ZINES:

Jerkstore #9 and #10
I Was A Teenage Mormon
Limited edition zines by Max Lavergne

Let me know your good reads for 2011.

Original Article

[caption id=”attachment_735” align=”alignnone” width=”460” caption=”Bringing in the new year with the wankiest of all wanky ciders. It’s so wanky the brewers won’t even ship it out of Melbourne.”][/caption]

I start every working weekday with bleary eyes, saving blank news script templates with the broadcast area, time and date. Today’s would’ve been MKY 630 311211 and RKY 630 311211. After a while the dates seem more like the Dewey Decimal System, a way of filing work rather than marking time.

I feel like I’ve lived three years in the past 12 months.

I spent last New Years Eve taking social photos in Toowoomba for my then-new job as flood waters washed over Emerald and just under the floorboards of my family home. Ten days later the Toowoomba flash floods tore through the garden city and the Lockyer Valley, killing dozens and destroying entire towns. For me it was 14 hour days, mud, Xanax, gratitude and a steep learning curve.
Our family held our breath through February and March as my Dad received and recovered from open heart surgery.
My colleagues and I were made redundant just before Easter, and I spent most of May and June living in my car and working for the ABC on the Sunny Coast.
I started my new job in late June, which has been another vertical climb. I’ve moved house twice, cranked out 3 zines, 2 demo releases for one of my bands, joined a second band, got 2 tattoos, had a couple of one night stands and one way romances and mitigated mania and depression with medication, sleep and love.

I guess what I’m trying to say is the universe scoffs at the idea of organising days and nights into cycles of 7, 4, 12, 26, or 365 and I scoff with it.

I don’t scoff at love and good times though, so I hope there’s plenty of both in your life tonight.

Original Article

Hello internet!
Issue 6 is done and dusted.

I’ve been in one city and job for the past six months, which is some kind of record for me. Issue 6 is about being punched in the face by life and mortality, early starts, trolling idiots on the internet and features the usual interviews, conversations and pro tips for life.

Copies will be in stock in stores in Brisbane and Melbourne, but Smells Like Zines in Toowoomba is still my zine peddler of choice AND
their webstore is offering a special pre-order of Issue 6.

Pre-orders get stickers, a bonus photo zine and whatever other cool stuff I feel like chucking in there.

It’s $3 + postage (as usual) and you can order now by clicking here.
Make sure you do it by midday Tuesday the 20th though - all zines ordered after that will be goody-free.

There’s also the Issue 6 mix, which should give you a good idea of what tunes I’ve been torturing my neighbours with lately. I would feel guilty about that, but I swear the guy at number 39 mows his lawn every second day. Seriously. Get a better hobby.

Original Article

Original Article

I’ve spoken about this before, but I’ve been having a blast getting back into writing and playing music.
It is my first love and like many first loves, I totally over-invested in it and ended up loving it to death.

I recently dragged the skills I learned during my 14 months in a music production degree out of the depths of my brain to record a split CD for my band Sailormouth and my friend’s band Sharks and Wolves.

The Sharks and Wolves half and the communal cover song was recorded at the home studio of our friend Goof.
He was very kind and let me take over all the engineering duties, as well as fielding my dumb questions.
Check out some photos I took during the recording and download a copy of the CD for free.

Original Article

I’ve never been much for parties. They make me nervous and I either drink and talk too much or leave early without saying goodbye to anyone.
Gigs and festivals often have the same effect on me; it takes something special to keep me there and keep the creeps away.

The Poison City Weekender is that something special.
I only saw one crappy band, all the people were nice and the venues were perfect.
The wide array of ciders available in Melbourne bars didn’t hurt either.

Here’s a video I made and some photos I took.

Original Article

My early childhood was full of sleepovers at Marnie and Pa’s house in the Brisbane suburbs. They’d pump me full of ice cream and coco pops, then swim in the pool and take me to the park.
They even put up with me waking up at 5 in the morning. I’d jump into bed with them and read stories while they dozed back to sleep.

I remember spending hours searching for treasure in Marnie’s junk room, which was full of random stuff she’d accumulated in her lifetime. When I got tired of that, I was allowed to hang out in Pa’s study with him as long as I was quiet.
He’d write and read at his leather-topped desk while I pored over his set of beautifully illustrated encylopedias.

Then suddenly my family moved to Emerald, I started school, Dad started a new job, my brother was born and my grandfather died of cancer.
Marnie started doing strange things. She’d chuck out the silverware instead of washing it, forget where she was in her own house, misplace her car in shopping centre car parks.

It was Alzheimer’s. She was only in her late 50s.

Our last good outing with her happened a few years later. I was nine years old, and my parents and I took her to see the stage musical Les Miserables at QPAC.
It was a fantastic production, but what sticks with me about that night is how much Marnie enjoyed it. Actually, ‘enjoyed’ isn’t the right word, I don’t know if there is one for how much she was affected by it. I suppose she was filled with joy. Here she was in a world where everything was strange and confusing, but she knew love and she knew music. She was still humming and smiling as my mum put her to bed.

Not long after that, she made her last trip out to central Queensland to see her parents (my great-grandparents) and spent time with us at home.
She sat smiling with my dad while he played piano and had a brief moment of lucidity with me, in which she told me stories about the dances she went to where she met my grandfather.

Alzheimer’s took 12 years to get the better of my grandmother and yet she was still outlived by her parents.
By pure luck I got five years of ice cream and stories, while my brother and sister only got to see a strange old lady in a nursing home.
Mum and her sisters had years of stress and the pain of losing their mother as a person, only to start the grieving all over again when her body died.

Right now, there’s no prevention or cure for Alzheimer’s. You can slow it down, but that’s about it. I guess all I can say is be kind to elderly people even if they’re annoying, and tell as many stories as you can so nothing is forgotten forever.

Original Article

Dear Jonathan Davis,

Hey man, how’s it going? Can I call you Jonno? No? Ok, no worries, Jonathan’s fine.

So, Jonathan, It’s been 18 years since your band Korn first formed and 13 years since you guys released Follow The Leader, your second and most influential album.

You guys were pioneers. You mixed the aggression and beats of rap with the angst of Nine Inch Nails and guitars so tuned and effected lesser mortals confused them with synths.

Kids too young for grunge latched on. They copied your white-boy dreadlocks and baggy pants, scowling with bad skin and eyebrow piercings.

Like KISS before you, Korn was more a brand than a band - and a hugely successful one at that.
When I was living in Toowoomba earlier this year, I saw at least half a dozen cars with decals of your logo covering their back window.
You’ve never been shy when it comes to product placement -  rappers taught you that. Porn* stickers, Adidas tracksuits, flash cars, grills… if it was there and profitable, you’d flog it.

But time moved on and now you’re 40 years old and sober.
Who would ever have thought lyrics such as “God paged me/you’ll never see the light” wouldn’t stand the test of time?
One of your guitarists left the band to follow Jesus and your drummer left in an attempt to retain his self-respect. Even God has moved on to email, or so I’ve been told.
Adidas withdrew their support, as did most of your other sponsors and you’ve been forced to scrape the bottom of the sponsorship barrel - Monster Energy Drink.

Come on Jonathan, seriously? That shit is vile enough to clear drains, explode hearts and give you instant diabetes all at once.
Extreme sportsmen, DJs and hot chicks in skimpy clothes drink Red Bull.
What kind of people drink Monster? Let me show you.

Jonathan Davis, it’s not too late to reconsider. At your age you could really go corporate. Wouldn’t you prefer a nice car or a new tracksuit to a carton of Monster?
I think we both know the answer.
Yours sincerely,
Sophie.

PS - Your new single is just horrible.  It makes Limp Bizkit’s comeback single Golden Cobra sound like John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’.

Original Article

I got a new camera today and it made me think.
While I’m totally fine with why I’ve upgraded, it’s very true that having a good camera won’t necessarily mean you take great photos.
The photo above is one of the shots I’m most proud of.
I was using a Nikon D90 that I’d bought using my Kevin Rudd money nearly a year earlier.
While I’d worked hard at learning how to use the camera, when I took this photo I was crammed into a tiny room with 40 other people including the band, delirious from glandular fever (shouldn’t have left the house, thanks Mum) and still didn’t really know what I was doing beyond focusing, aperture and shutter speed.

Just goes to show, I guess.

Original Article

Home is somewhere to hang your journalism degree.

Original Article

It’s just SO satisfying when I read a bulletin the whole way through and it hits the 3:30 mark. Simple things.

Original Article

I’ve joined back up to a gym.
The Rockhampton Fitness Centre, aka “Norm’s Gym” is the oldest gym in the city, and dudes have been coming here to lift heavy things since the 1960s. It was built in an old bank on the river, and they even have the old steel safe door open.
While it’s cheap and the staff aren’t creepily cheerful, it is a bit run-down. Sure, it has the equipment I need, but they haven’t updated the “inspiring fitness posters” since the 1980s.
As a result, they’ve gone from inspiring to hilarious. I tried to grab pictures of as many as I could… I didn’t want people to think I was some weird sort of pervert taking pictures of my fellow gym members.

[caption id=”attachment_639” align=”alignnone” width=”329” caption=”The happy couple.”][/caption]

[caption id=”attachment_640” align=”alignnone” width=”585” caption=”Hello boys! This is in the “ladies only” area of the gym.”][/caption]

[caption id=”attachment_641” align=”alignnone” width=”329” caption=”Thank god my shitty phone camera couldn’t capture the full bald patch and camel toe glory in this poster.”][/caption]

[caption id=”attachment_642” align=”alignnone” width=”585” caption=”This man has exceptional flexibility and core strength.”][/caption]

[caption id=”attachment_643” align=”alignnone” width=”329” caption=”We even have Arnie! Pre Terminator, Governator and Sperminator.”][/caption]

Original Article

I really like Rocky. Even though I grew up a couple of hundred kilometres west in Emerald, I see the blue mountains of the Berserker (pronounced Ber-SICK-er) Range and feel like I’m home.
This is the view from the top of Archer Street, directly opposite my old boarding school.
William and Charles Archer discovered the muddy brown Fitzroy river which runs through Rockhampton.
Their brother Colin was the first white settler to sail down the river to the present site of the city, where William was waiting for him on horse back. Obviously William won the race! Ha, I’m so funny.
After all that, the Archer family had one of the city’s main streets and the biggest mountain in the range named after them.

Original Article