Shelly, mid 2010.

2009/10

Nippon Ichiban

Fernside

Ruins Of Detroit

Detroit has more abandoned building than any other city in the world. Check this out.
http://www.marchandmeffre.com/detroit/

One In A Million

A text I received from PJ.

"Gather round, for I have a tale to tell. It was a night, not to different to this one (it was actually 5 minutes ago). For 3 days and 3 nights I have been brewing a shit within me, deep deep down. And it is on this night I chose to release it, and this is how it went. It left my bum so perfectly and smoothly, one big clump serpenting out of my sphincter. It had a certain crispness about it (no doubt because of the lack of fruit in my diet) and ended up staying in one big piece as it finally left my body and fell into the bowl. I stared down at it for about 5 minutes in awe, of how a human could be responsible for something so beautifull. I go to wipe my bottom, and to my amazement, no poo on the toilet paper. One in a million, the PERFECT poo!

Nicholas Patrick John Ball."

Golden Mile

Recently, Wavezone made me reminisce on some rather sordid but enjoyable moments 3 years ago. The thought of Dion escorting the rest of our group and a pre-pubesent teen named Tommy down Darlinghurst Road to a club haplessly named “The World Famous Love Machine”, still springs into my mind every now and then. I think its safe to say that any desire to go back to that place has been danced clean out of our systems.

I asked my friend Cameron to send me his thoughts about The Cross exactly 11 months ago. I got a reply from him today. It read, “leaving work at the cross at 4am on a friday, I don’t even get more than 50 metres before I was offered both sex and drugs but my favourite memory of the place would have to be the first time I went to a strip club there and learnt the best policy of life out back from a homeless junkie”. I quietly chuckled to myself, I knew exactly what he was talking about. I was with him. 

But I don’t know whether to love or hate this part of Sydney. Dont be fooled by what seems to be an endless stretch of neon lights, it reeks of anticlimax and morbidity. Yet in some sort of twisted way, it’s hard not to appreciate Darlinghurst Street.

I've been fortunate enough to steer clear of that area (or unfortunate, which ever way you look at it) primarily because I've had work commitments since I'd turned 18. Thing is, some of these nights offer you great euphoria whilst others, leaving you to question why on earth you traded in a quiet one watching “Sleepless in Seattle” to a pointless night out, most often than not rendering you useless for any sort of activity the next day. The City nightlife as a whole is a prime example of this. Stumble into the wrong place with the wrong people and your night is on its way to becoming a great act in futility.