Making Your Message Clear

This fabulous piece of local public art was sent to me by a reader. 
Don't you wish you knew the story behind this? I know it probably involves a guy called Damo or Nuggets or something, and the whore fucking vagina dog who stole him away, but I feel there's just so much more to it that we'll never know, and it's driving me nuts.

Thanks for the memories....

The True North Rezzfest Spectacular is over for another year and my mood is starting to wane like the smoke plumes of an illegal Rezza fireworks display on New Year's Eve. 
I just need to hang on to the afterglow a little longer though.

The moment where I got the last Kranski off the V8 grill....

Or all that free cardboard.

The moment where we all went mental over the Cambodian Space Project, whilst also smugly enjoying the fact that for once we hadn't paid for the fireworks that were going off in the background.

And Pool House Blues, with Danny Walsh Banned playing slide on a neon guitar with a full stubbie of beer.

All this happened after a few orders from the Edward's Place cocktail menu. I'm intrigued that the "Cocksucking Cowboy" needs abbreviation, but the "Wet Pussy" doesn't. I tried both and I can assure you that they're equally delicious, but I think it's only right that the "Wet Pussy" costs a dollar more.

Edward's Place also has an amazing sandwich menu. 

Seriously, I would live there, if only they had more of this...

Aahh, Rezzfest, we will miss you. We'll keep your seat warm for 2015.

Rezzfest Day 3: Kite Festival

So after two and a half hours pressing the snooze button this morning I finally rose, dusted the glitter off my bingo jacket and headed down to Rezzfest Kite Festival.
Shortly after I arrived I was confronted by what appeared to be an enormous sad arrangement of man parts emerging from the green room. The exotic lady assisting this apparatus seemed unhappy with me and said "Please, no photos yet, it's not ready". 
I couldn't agree more.

Lo and behold, the miserable form she was yanking at was in fact an elephant, being awakened by a gust of hot air up its arse. I think she's looking for loose change in its mouth in this shot.

The elephant whetted my appetite for creatures, so I headed to the animal zone. About time we had one of those up here.
I think this was the first time this chick had worked a crowd that knew more about snakes than she did. She was surrounded by blokes saying stuff like "What does that baby pack, about 12 kilos?", and "What are you giving her, just mice, or you throwin' a rat in there once a week too?"

I got up to this guy just as the handler was saying "You can pat him, he's friendly..... NOT ON THE HEAD THOUGH!!! NOT THE HEAD!!!! He doesn't like that!!"

Then I went to the petting zoo. Not much going on there. Just some circle work.

I mentioned a couple of days ago where I stand on situations like this. Honestly, when I took the corner and saw this flapping about above me, my Gozleme nearly reverse parked.

Luckily I found my happy place again watching this puffy dog do little air pushups in the sky. It's not the first time I've seen this happen, but it's the the first time I've seen it happen at a family event.

Nothing to see here.....

Rezzfest Day 2: Highlights and memories

As I prepare to embark on day 3 of the extraordinary Rezzfest spectacular, I want to take a few moments to reflect on all the sights and excitement of yesterday's program.

Here's a supply ship for the Compass Club preparing to dock.

The visionary combination of a muscle car and processed meats.

I had to cross the road at this point. This guy wasn't even the clown teacher. I think this is just how he likes to look on a Saturday afternoon on Edwardes Street. 

The local children were given a lucrative contract building temporary accommodation for Reservoir's exploding population.


The priorities of Reservoir's population were confirmed once and for all when they were forced to choose between the bar and the chance to finally see the exotic secrets of Pole Princess revealed. The bar won, with only a handful of people showing up for the pole dancing. Go figure.

And of course Elvis bingo went off. These ladies are all major fans of my blog. They told me they had never played bingo before, and that if it hadn't been for my post the other day about the Elvis bingo they might never have known it was on.

Anyway, more later. I've been rather slow off the mark today, thanks to the good times at Pool Hall Blues last night, so I better get out there. I've got a kite that wants flying for god's sake.

Rezza Relay

I've just got home from the True North Rezzfest launch, held in an elite quarter of the Spring street carpark. 
I finally got some quality time with my fellow blogger Reservoir Dad, and perhaps unsurprisingly we found we had a fair bit in common, so we got to chatting, and the good times ensued.

Before long all our social pretences had fallen away and we were daring one another to relocate items from the site equipment.

For the record, I won this round. I'm dropping this baby into the Edwardes Street party some time tomorrow and it's up to Reservoir Dad to relocate it somewhere spectacular. 

Tunnel of Love

My last post about Reservoir Blockbuster sent me into an unexpected reverie about the pedestrian tunnel that runs between Edwardes Street and the Ralph Street car park. It's a veritable pleasure vault for the recreationally challenged, with Blockbuster at the front end and Cellarbrations to the rear. Combine this with the mesmerising array of starchy treats available to those prepared to walk into the light onto Edwardes Street and you've got yourself a perfect weekend.
It's the Cellarbrations that particularly deserves more appreciation though. Their service lanes, whether intentionally or not, have been laid out as a complicated obstacle course that prevents intoxicated people from reaching the counter to purchase more alcohol. I can only believe that this has been driven by a concern for community wellbeing. And it's also the only bottle shop I've ever found that sells canned tuna and a comprehensive range of dress jewellery.

The 1990's Called

With all due respect to the lovely team at Reservoir Blockbuster, this message is the cyber equivalent to waking up with a headache and rolling over to see your ex lying next to you. 

That's How We Roll

For anyone outside of Reservoir who's thinking about heading up for True North festival this weekend, I just want to put your minds at ease that the journey will be worth it, because up here we know how to throw a party. 
I commend the festival for their roaming pop up bar and various 'non traditional spaces', however I do feel a certain responsibility to point out that Rezza has been doing all of that for years.
Case in point: I took these pictures recently in the aftermath of a Saturday night Beam and ciggies fiesta outside the Kids on Broadway dance apparel shop. 


This is the point in the story where trouble comes into paradise. There's an item in the True North Festival program I'm struggling with. It's called Finding Your Clown.  
Like many others of my generation, I was subjected to the cinematic trauma machine of Stephen King's "It" at a vital stage in my cognitive development. In my case it was due to an aberration of supervisory dynamics, being that my parents went out for the night, and shortly thereafter my older sibling said "Watch this video. It'll fuck you up." Amazingly enough, he was right.
He also introduced me to Alien and Predator.
So this week while I was innocently scrolling through the True North program I read the words "Ever thought there might be a clown hiding inside you?" and next thing I knew I was on my back, clawing at my belly screaming "Yes!!! Get it out! Get it out of me!!!"
Don't get me wrong - I'm all for family programming, and if just one Rezza kid finds their "clown walk" next weekend it will be a win for every geezer who ever struggled to find his way home from Zagame's on a Sunday morning. But so help me, if any one of those creepy little proteges sneaks up on me and honks its red nose in my general direction during the festival I won't be held accountable for my actions.

Love Me Tender

So the second thing in the Rezzfest program that has all my ciliate cells vibrating is Broadway Bingo with Elvis. As far as I'm concerned the only thing wrong with Bingo is the lack of Elvis and the only thing wrong with Elvis is the lack of Bingo. Seriously, I have dreams like this, but in the dream my dabber pens always run dry just before the jackpot. God knows what that's about.

I bet these guys have dreams like that too, a fact they can probably testify from every occasion I've parked outside their gates humming "Are you lonesome tonight?" while they're trying to sleep. 
Sorry about that, by the way, gentle Elvis-loving neighbours. I can't help it if my happy place is your driveway.

Walking on Sunshine

I've noted previously that Reservoir has some remarkably positive graffiti. 
Here's some more.

And So It Begins....

Living in Rezza comes with the perpetual anxiety of watching "progress" charge up the hill towards you like a Cortina with a jammed accelerator cable. Don't get me wrong - there are certainly one or two things up here that could do with some attention, a lick of paint, or indeed a restraining order. What gives me the dry horrors though, is the thought of Rezza all too soon being swallowed up by that particular 21st century blight of shopping tracts that cater to lifestyle ideologies without actually selling anything useful: homeware shops selling repurposed urns full of sticks and walls of display cushions; baby shops selling designer night lights and pinafores; restaurants serving tasting plates but no actual meals. I like to think that the great irrepressible spirit of the people of Reservoir will continue to prevail and impose its unique form of natural selection onto new developments. Every time I see earth movers and cyclone fencing though, it's hard not to wonder "Is this the one?".
Not that I'm exactly raising the alarm bells just yet. It seems that the complex above is going to house a Coles and a K-mart. I have a feeling we will all get along just fine. 
It's the numerous small shops for lease in the complex that are bothering me. What godless time bomb of artisan steampunk beard grooming accessories and soy candles could be waiting to detonate there?

The Beer Hunter

I've started studying the True North Rezzfest program to plan my itinerary for next weekend. Perhaps unsurprisingly the Compass Club pop up bar was the first thing to capture my attention. With all due respect to the contributions of last year's participating artists and performers, The Compass Club was far and away my favourite part of the first True North. Rezza has a number of esteemed licensed gaming venues, but it doesn't have a single proper bar, so when Compass Club appeared hundreds of people gravitated towards it hungrily and partied all weekend like a busload of backpackers on acid. Good times.
This year it appears the Compass Club is going to change locations throughout the weekend. Ranging around the streets of Rezza after dark in search of a bar that vanishes and reappears unexpectedly should give True North a nice Stephen King feel I think. And for once I won't feel the need to cross the road when I see a lost soul standing on a deserted corner vehemently insisting to anyone who will listen "There was a bar here last night, I swear."

Are You Heading True North?

For anyone who doesn't follow my facebook page, there has been some recent news. I will be blogging  for the True North - Reservoir Arts Festival this year. The festival will be held over the weekend of 21-23 March with a huge program over several locations around the 'Voir. I will be reporting on whatever captures my attention all weekend - possibly key portions of the program, but more likely just amusing tracksuits or food wrappers on the ground that kind of look like Elvis if you squint a bit.

Here's the full program. Check it out. It's a beast.