Big Day Out Review Rant 2007

It's my yearly tradition to go to the Big Day Out and then review it. And it seems to be the Big Day Out organisers tradition to provide a worse and worse line up every year. I hardly think I have obscure taste in modern music, yet only my least favourite band of the year made it to the bill! I didn't even want to go. It sold out, I didn't have a ticket, and I was happy. But then they "discovered" extra tickets and they sold them at a mystery location in the city on a day when I was supposed to be in my cubicle working. How could I resist that? I bought a ticket and I went and I knew it would be shit. I was in for a surprise... it was even more shit than I could have possibly imagined.

The Butterfly Effect
Drinking first thing in the morning is the damndest thing. My breakfast was Weet-Bix and a screwdriver. I played Wii for 2 hours instead of seeing these guys.

I hear they were shit.

I hear they were shit.


SA Police Service Event Commander Chief Inspector John McCaffrey commented, "Considering the size of the crowd, there were relatively few incidents. People who have been coming to this event for over eight years said that this has been one of the most well behaved crowds they’ve seen"

This is not much of a shock because I think most of the crowd was about 15 years old. They were shit.

Line up to get in. Line up for a wrist band. Line up to buy drink tokens for each to buy over priced drinks. Line up at the bar to buy overpriced drinks with stupid fucking drink tokens.

All of this was better than Scribe. He was shit.

All of this was better than Scribe. He was shit.

My Chemical Romance


Eskimo Joe

Chicks in revealing clothing played a set that was shit.

image 170 from

The Vines

John Butler Trio
Didn't even see them but they were shit.

Shouldn't of played 'Shoot the Runner' first because the rest of their set was shit.

The Killers
The only good part of this set was sitting down drinking and yelling 'You suck!' at them over the crowd noise of ~10,000 people.

They were shit.

They were shit.

Afra and Increditble Beatbox Band
This may have been wicked in all regards but I feel like I have to say they were shit.

This may have been wicked in all regards but I feel like I have to say they were shit.

Fucking awesome.

You Am I

The Crystal Method
They were alright. One of them DJ'd and the other one danced around like a tit. Played mostly remixes. I also think they played 'Song 2' by Blur for almost no reason. I know it was a DJ set but it wasn't mixed or anything they just played Song 2 and then that was the end. It would have been OK if they were Blur but they weren't. Didn't even play an encore. Highlight was when they played part of Knights of Cydonia over a bassline. Shit.

For dinner I paid for a salad. A fucking Salad. I really don't remember all that much about the period between the end of Muse and the eating of that salad because for starters I was really rocked out and also I had spent about on alcohol at that stage (which isn't really that much of a statement considering it was for a Jack and Coke). I just remember finding myself sitting on the grass eating a Greek salad complete with rocket, feta cheese and olives and realising I was eating a salad. It was a good salad. I believe it came from some magical gypsy salad tent because I couldn't find where I got it from afterwards.

Then before Crystal Method I went to get my annual BDO t-shirt purchase. I asked if they had a Crystal Method shirt but they only had it in small. But that was cool, I asked for a Muse shirt, but they only had that in medium and small as well. So I said "Fuck you T-shirt guy" and pointed at him while I said this. Then for 20 minutes I felt a bit aggrieved about being a big tall cunt. So in the boiler room I sought out small people enjoying their new Muse shirts and then stood directly in front of them so they couldn't see the stage until I spotted another person with a Muse shirt.

Oh and the whole day I wore ear plugs which I have to say was an excellent plan. I also remember thinking multiple times "every band here isn't worth damaging my hearing for". Except for Muse. They were awesome.

Why did I bother going? Because I can afford to! And it was better than work.

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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.

Before the Blackout

Before darkness swept over me I was kneeling in front of my computer clicking away at today's sudoku as I digested my dinner. Then there was an electronic gasp as every piece of hardware died and thousands of LEDs finally found silence. Seconds passed which seemed like hours because I had no clock to use to keep track of these things. Then there was a half-hearted wheeze, power ebbed back into all devices for a final fleeting glimpse before like a hand waving out of a departing car it was gone. Somewhere nearby two possum police officers were on their way to the tree of a widow to take off their little possum police hats and deliver the bad news.

Before the blackout I had never seriously sat down and wondered exactly how those ancient Chinese Sudoku masters could have played without the internet.

Before the blackout I had been thinking about the coming weekend of camping, fantasising about the simple, relaxing pleasures that would come from drinking beer and playing cards with my friends by gas light. Now I was struck with the stink of candles and losing at cheat to my mother while imagining the air conditioner that would cool me down.

Before the blackout the fridge was chilling my drink and the spa was heating my therapy. After the blackout I realised that stumbling through the darkness to migrate my drink into the murky, chlorinated waters had been panic fueled foolishness.

Before the blackout I was idealistic, but after the blackout I was jaded.

This One Has Been a Long Time Coming

I often catch myself thinking in narrative. Basically the same style most of my entries have been written over the years, that's how I actually think. This is probably the result of coming up with journal entries throughout daily life for the past half a decade. Except when I'm thinking it I don't get to filter out all the justifications and most of what I think about isn't always poignant.

The problem is that when I catch myself thinking in narrative, I often chide myself for doing so. I scold my mind: 'Who are you talking to!?'
And then my brain replies 'Well, I often catch myself thinking in narrative. Basically...'

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Retrospective Camping Review Entry

When you're out camping how do you tell the difference between the male long drop and the female long drop?

The female long drop has a smaller long drop right next to it for tampons and sanitary napkins.

The Words Most Spake - Deep Creek 2007

Freak Toe
Brad Bird
Chin Hair

Stranger Than Fiction

Stranger Than Fiction is now the frontrunner for best movie I've seen this year. Its only current competition is 'A Night at the Museum' but still, it's an excellent movie full of post-modern tingly bits.

If you're one of those intellectual types that saw 'Will Ferrell' and 'Queen Latifah' on the bill, and was not quite intellectual enough to be stimulated by seeing 'Tony Hale' in the credits then I can advise you now, see this movie.

Best Valentines Day Ever

Today I beat the tough Sudoku without a single guess. All technique baby and all skill. After I won my screen was rewarded with floating JavaScript hearts.

I also managed to use my manly shopping skills to find a cute stuffed toy butterfly. It only took like 40 shops. Seriously women, could you like any more obscure animals?

I also spent 5 minutes deciding which Bakers Delight Twisted Delight I should get. I got the sweet chilli. It turned out to be an excellent call.

Playing With Myself

Important Body Milestones occurred today. I woke up and weighed myself as usual and discovered I had somehow put on 2.8kg since Wednesday morning! A Twisted Delight, pizza and midnight schnitzels had not been kind to me. A short morning ritual and I weighed myself again. Miraculously I was now 800g lighter. This set off a day of weighing adventure. Fortunately I didn't have much else going on.

I took a slash that reduced my weight by a whole kilogram. This was shortly after basketball when I'd weighed myself and then drank a litre of water while standing on the scales and then tossing the bottle away. It was educational, which is a good thing I suppose because even though it's summer Thursday is still my uni day and when I take days off work it's good to get something out of them.

Today I also burped and sneezed simultaneously for the first time and that was pretty exhilarating and snotty!

A Drink After Work

My ears pricked as a low pitched hum snuck from behind me and around to the front of my nipple. I let my place in Men's Health be lost as my right hand snapped at the air in front of my chest. I gazed at my palm, noticing both my index finger and thumb had the faintest outline of a black curve on them. A few inches downwards a mosquito lay crumpled and defeated on my mattress cover.

I revelled in my triumph momentarily before the peaceful looking corpse caused introspection in my heart and running from empathy I sat up off my bed and looked at the clock. It had just trickled past midnight and it was still 31 degrees. It was a Friday night, now at this stage it was officially confirmed that it was a lazy Friday night. I was nonplussed. I'd already achieved more than anyone could be required to do on a day with maximums near forty. I'd caught the train in the morning to my office in jeans, spent a large portion of my day working on or at least close to my computer and only took one coffee break – for a smoothycino – that I kept to less than 30 minutes. The engaging part came in the evening though, when I spent my second night of the week at the gym actively reminiscing some of the exercise I used to do. Sweating profusely I spent the following hours watching the sunset from inside the ocean before going home and making some scrambled eggs.

After recalling all of this it was still 31 degrees. My water bottle sat next to my bed, empty, like a ruin. My tongue danced across the roof of my mouth, spreading saliva across parts of my mouth sparsely like a South Australian hosing their garden during water restrictions. I was hot. I was thirsty. I was exhausted. It was Friday. I needed an ice cold beer.

On the way home from the gym I'd gone to BWS and taken advantage of their 20% off all slabs and cartons deal by picking up a carton of LöwenBräu for forty dollars. I'd stashed most of it in the fridge upon arriving home, but I'd distributed 3 bottles throughout the freezer to chill rapidly with intention of not forgetting they were there before going to bed.

I remembered.

I moved with pace to reach the fridge outside, opened the attached freezer and plucked the three bottles from their respective locations. I clutched them all to my naked chest, partly in love but mainly to determine which was the coldest. One was barely tolerable to hold near. I grasped it tightly and the other podium finishers migrated to join their brothers in the fridge.

I danced back inside to my kitchen. My new beer grasped tightly like a Christmas Present inside my hand. I landed it on the kitchen bench and rummaged hurriedly through the drawers to find the bottle opener. I brandished it and it was Christmas Morning as I slowly shed the ribbon off my treasure and levered off the cap.

I was not prepared for this much beer.

I knew something wasn't right when the cap's first jolt away from the neck of the bottle came with white sap spreading from the cracks like the beer was the branch of a tree. I continued on, hearing the sharp exhalation of pressure from the bottle as the cap fell away and into my hands. I gazed at it, noticing the oddity. Internally it was lined with a crisp layer of ice. In horror I looked down. It was happening in slow motion. My beer frothed out in arctic snakes, flowing from out the bottle and down the glassy sides. The foam came in waves, as if inside my beer a heart was slowly pumping the last beats it had.

After the initial shock I sprang to action, leaning forward and attaching my mouth to the erupting beer head and money-shotting all it had to offer. I fully anticipated my expecting mouth would calm the beer and despite some loss of volume I could soon be enjoying it. I was wrong, and the pressure grew until my mouth and throat could not handle this absurd form of leaning down beer bong and I had to abandon beer.

Violins played and there were tears in my eyes as I watched the thick, icy ale froth out my beer and onto the bench it sat on. It seemed like my whole day had been a preparation towards enjoying this first beer and now it was ironically ruined by preparing for too long. I cried as the flow slowly became a trickle and the beer lay silent. It was a tragedy and there was only one thing left I could think to do. Take a photo.

Shock passing, I clasped the beer and wailed. Upon gaining proximity I noticed that there was still a small amount of iced beer in the base of its container. I brought my eyes down level with the beer and then put it to my lips, trying to at least get that first taste; trying to at least have one good memory with beer. Drops slid down the neck and onto my tongue. It was delicious, euphoric as if my panicked, heightened senses had not forgotten my tastebuds.

Too soon the drops soon stopped though. Our kiss ended and as I pulled away I realised that the beer was now just a shell of what it once was. Like the end scene of Titanic I was Kate Winslet and my beer was Leonardo DiCaprio. I released my hand and left it to sink and face its icy death.

Today had begun hot but now I was cold. Today had begun so full of promise but now it lay empty. Today had begun with a smoothycino and now it was finishing with a smoothylöwenbräu.

And that is why you reapply

It is super hot right now. I tried to float a pool party idea but it sunk. All are welcome to bring a carton of beer and sit on the floor of my shower with me tomorrow while I let the cold water trickle onto me and listen to the cricket.

Nostalgic Correlations

If you were to Data Mine the last few years of my life you would find a few interesting patterns regarding my relationships.

In the past 30 months I have broken up with a girlfriend three times after spraining my ankle no more than 10 days before. What does this tell me? Or you? I have no friggin' idea.

This morning I had my first dentist appointment since 30 months ago. My dentist wore a pink shirt and said with a completly non-ironic lisp that I had the straightest teeth he'd ever seen. It was the gayest thing I'd heard for... 30 months. I'm lying. It was the gayest thing I'd heard since yesterday when the Scissor-Sister's "She's My Man" started playing when I was at the gym. All the sweaty, muscular men starting working harder and pumping faster. I totally wasn't into it though. Pilates is more about endurance.

Four times in the past two years I have decided the time has come to end a relationship with a girl after getting lost trying to take a shortcut on my way home from their house. One time it was the cab driver who got lost but I count it. What does this tell me? For one thing it does seem to indicate why the length of my relationships increases as the distance a girl lives from my house decreases. All these relationships were already teetering anyway and these break ups were justified and a long time coming. But when a girl isn't stimulating and you spend a whole evening with them unstimulated you just want to get out of there, get home as fast as possible and stimulate yourself.

I mean that mentally but I wrote it so dirty.

The shirt I wore tonight I've worn once in the last 29 months. Twice in the last 30. It's dirty. I also had my annual review today and I've fallen in love with my long hair.

I'm going to bed now. My ankle was getting better but now it's hurting more for some reason.

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