christmas 2005

Vampire Weekend Trailer from ezra on Vimeo.

Look familiar?

One of my artist models this year for painting is the wonderful Martin Mull. He paints these weird quasi-psychedelic images representing 1950's childhood and domestic life. I'm sure there's a bigger meaning in there somewhere but I haven't found it just yet. Here's a painting he did;


And this one;

Oh so awesome. I thought I only knew him from his paintings, until I researched the guy online and found that photo of him (at the top there. See it? Yeah, that one). I know.

It's Colonel Mustard. My artist model is freaking Colonel Mustard from Clue!!!



YEAH!!! THAT GUY!!

FLASHBACK: unpublished post #1

02/02/10 11:36 PM

"Ssshhhh... we're in the main block."

I got to school this morning about five minutes to nine. Oli and I can now time our respective routines perfectly enough to be able to walk to school in the mornings. We live at that awkward distance where walking takes forty minutes, but biking takes ten. But biking sucks when you're carrying a bass (and occasionally ends up with five stitches in your chin). I'm excited about this tiny change for two reasons. 1; it means we have to get up earlier... which means we get more out of the pretty summer mornings... and B; I am now not getting lifts. I cant drive, but I hate getting lifts. This probably will have to end with me getting my licence. GO! New GOAL!

It was the year nines first day at school today. They all were standing around the front steps in their new backpacks trying to look invisible when Oli and I arrived. The other monitors were off to the side, kicking stones. We were told to meet before school to talk to the new kids and make them feel less shit scared at arriving at the most ominous looking school in the South Island. Ominous, but crazy beautiful. It was unexpectedly difficult striking up conversations with excited and nervous year nines pretending to be unfazed by the whole ordeal. I would ask if they were looking forward to starting high school, they'd reply with a "Oh, naaah... huh..." exhaling slowly and looking anywhere but at me. There would be more of this sort of talk in their group, then one would say, as if asking about the weather, "So is it true that they throw year nines in the river?". I would answer with a strong yes, and move on to the next group.

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FLASHBACK: unpublished post #2

31/05/10 1:21 AM

Chartfest - A Review

Yeah, so we won that Chartfest Competition which is pretty neat. It was cool to do interviews and try to talk about our band, which we haven't really done before. A question we got a lot was "So what sort of music do you play," which, strangely, is a very hard question to answer. We went with "Pop... uh, yeah, pop." But I wouldn't class us as pop, not just yet anyway. Pop suggests an awesomeness (ie. Beatles eraish Pop) that we don't quite have (but are growing, slowly and eagerly), but also has the negative connotations of that bland machine written verse, chorus verse style of writing that boy bands and such used in the 90's. I dunno... it's just something we need to decide upon really.

Another cool aspect was the fact that the competition made us (read: Oli) tidy up our myspace, and record songs. It's a great feeling to be proactive. Also, with Alex's photos, we've finally got a face, not just a name, if you know what I mean. We hadn't done it before, and it's really cool, seeing an article online about us, with a big wanky photo of us standing in an over lit field. THAT'S US! Pretentious as.

The prizes were pretty wicked. We got this mean as PA system and this cool framed trophy thing with a blank CD glued in (we guessed it's probably an old chart disc). Also, they let us play for 15 minutes on the James Hay Stage at the start of the concert. Oh so so much fun.

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FLASHBACK: unplublished post # 3

26/06/10 6:53 AM

So so far away.

I've had a lot of Lyttleton lately. It's not bad thing, actually it's quite the good thing. Lyttleton is quiet and peaceful, quaint and insane (I would like to give an enormous colourful prize to whoever designed the roads there), and just so darn pretty. The buildings and houses sit tall, crumbling over each other ready roll down the hills and fall into the sparkling waters of the Harbour. It'll happen.

The only downside for me is it's so far away. Oh so far away. The journey their involves quite a commute really, and even longer if you take the public transport option (which I would actually recommend... the busdrivers on the number 28 are usually lovely). It makes sense then that Lyttleton stays so calm. You can't be stressed going there. You KNOW it's going to take a long time, so you just have to learn to be patient, and in doing so, decompress.

On Thursday night it was Custard Bears turn for a gig in Lyttleton. Marking our second gig in a bar, we were invited to play the cozy half-undergroud El Santo by Tono and the Finace Company (who are sick puppies).

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note on the following:

I thought I'd publish these half-written posts. They're half-written, so not compelte stories in themselves, but they trigger memories for me, ones I'd rather not forget. Who knows, maybe you were there?

Know Thyself...

Let's face it, Socrates. You're a jerk. Just look at you, in your robe-toting ignorance. Fucking wanker strutting around telling people they know nothing, not chipping in his fair share of the political duties, whilst going on and bad mouthing the whole system anyway! Well, YOU think of a better political system than democracy, you mind numbing twat.

But NO, instead you claim ignorance, and yet continue to question the authority and organisational structure of a system that you choose to have nothing to do with. You then spread the word to a bunch of kiss-ass tyrants who take pride in bending your message to validate their self-centred political aspirations.

Go do something with your life. Why not take a leaf out of the sophists book? They did alright, eh? Despite being shunned politically, and disowned by any man with philosophical standing in Athens, they avoided living to the age of 70 in complete poverty! Poverty, Socrates! Look at you! You're an old man, this can't be healthy. Have some self pride. Cut your hair every now and then. Bathe for Christs sake.

Frankly, Socrates, I'm worried about you. Do you really have to be so fucking impolite to people? Just learn to accept people for who they are. And maybe, if you do that, you'll come to accept who YOU are. There's nothing more emotionally crippling than self doubt.

All I'm asking is that you make sensible decisions, and try to live out the few years you have left with a litttle financial security. Who knows, it could be fun. You've got a lot of potential. Just don't fuck it up.