Clean House.
Pay Bills.
Work on Radio.
Get ready for New Year’s Eve.
Don’t surf until thumb heals.
Clean House again (How’d it get messy so quick?)

x aa

Voting for Natalie or Matt?
I really don’t care if you don’t care about Idol.

Voting for federal election?
Your vote is valuable.
I’m not kidding.
I don’t care who you vote for, just don’t vote without thinking about it.

Last week, on the way back from the Justin Timberlake show (top three all time shows ever), I had some stuff in the car I was going to put in the Vinnies bin, so decided to swing by on the way back.

It was a little after midnight on Tuesday, technically Wednesday morning, when I pulled in to the side of the Vinnie’s store in Bondi where the donation bins are.
As I parked, I noticed a guy in a hoodie going through the piles of clothes left by the bins. It’s nothing really out of the ordinary for Bondi, though I sized him up, noticed that he was wearing two t-shirts under his hoodie, and figured that he wasn’t too scary so I got out of the car and started to unload my bags of stuff into the bins.

He looked up slowly from his foraging and stumbled a bit as he stood to slur at me in the minciest voice I’ve heard in ages, “Indgoo gee? Aaandgoo gee! You met me wuntce at aarcnightclub in draaag”.

I noticed that under the hood was a young, very good looking blonde guy, who had a very pretty face that he seemed to be trying to chew off from the inside.
I kept loading the bins.

“C’mon you don’t remember? I waaas in draaag queen and joo met me in Arq nightclub Andgoo gee!”

“Great, I went there once or twice, it was fun”, I said as I kept unloading, and went back to my car for the last bag.

“Yyeash I used to be a draaag queen at Arq nightclub where I metchoo Androogeee”..

I remarked that he sounded like he’d had a big night tonight.

“I’ve had a big weekend honey, Friday, Saturday, monblahblahbluurg…” he trailled off as he stuffed the clothes he was sorting through up his jumper.

I turned to get in to my car, and his tone changed dramatically..

“So where are you going now Andrew? You’re not going home alone are you?”

I knew where this was going.

“C’mon Andrew G doesn’t have to go home alone, c’mon you don’t have to if you don’t want to”

I said that I was going home to bed, and suggested that he might want to do the same thing.

He spat at me like an angry toddler,
“I’m going home to suck my crack pipe instead you fucker!” and he stuffed another dress under his hoodie and stumbled away.

Now. I don’t quite know at what stage his life became like this, though I can only imagine that he still belived he was in his glamorous, star-of-the moment, “hottest young thing on Oxford street” life.
The way he was already wearing two t-shirts under his hoodie, and stuffing more clothes under there led me to deduce that he was trying to keep warm and had in fact no home to go.

I hear that people have to hit absolute rock-bottom before they can begin to even try to beat an addiction.
What part of being homeless and going through Vinnie’s bins for clothes to keep you warm after being awake for five days on Ice and trying to solicit sex from strangers for money isn’t rock bottom?

Ice is one of the worst drugs ever.
You’d have to be a complete fuckin’ idiot to get stuck on it.

I hope this kid finds his way out of his hole, and that you think twice before getting in to a drug like that.
It’s a dirty, filthy, slippery slope that destroys lives and is far from glamorous or fun.

I hope that kid has found some sleep since last week.

xx aa

And I don’t mean Idol.

Today, people all over the world are being violently repressed for wanting to participate in democracy.
In Burma/Myanmar many people died, and the situation of those remaining has since have been dragged back in to the darkness of oppressive military rule for simply wanting a say.
In Pakistan right now, there is violent and ruthless suppression of the public’s desire for democracy.
These people are willing to die so that they can have a say in the future of their country. The future of the country that they were born in, the country that they love, the country that carries all of their culture, memories and hopes.

What will you be doing on November 24th?
Complaining that the voting queue interferes with your shopping/xbox/video hits time?

This is your chance to directly affect how you live in your country, your chance to control how your life is here in Australia.

Your vote counts, and as you can see, people all across the world are willing to die so that they may put one tick in one box.
That’s how valuable this is.

So think about it.
Do some research.
Find out who’s preferences go to whom.
Check out policies of various parties.

Don’t be the guy who buys a Ford just because his Dad and Granddad and Uncle all own Fords.
Think for yourself.
Realise that your vote will have direct consequence on the way that you live.

It will not be business as usual (whether you like it or not) if you don’t vote.
You have to vote to keep/change the way things are right now, it’s up to you.

Look at your little brothers and sisters, or even your kids. Your vote will affect their lives, too.
So do some reading, think about what it is you have in your power to change.

See you down at Bondi Primary on November 24th.

xx aa

(I hope I got all the affect/effect bits right.. please feel free to point out to me if I got it wrong, I was all in a tizzy when writing this.)

Twenty-Six or so years ago, Mick Fanning was born. He had a skint upbringing in Western Sydney, and his Mum moved the family to Queensland in search of greener pastures. They did it tough. He grew up, he surfed like no-one else. He got loose, he got good, he got sponsored and got loose some more. He went through the tragedy of losing a brother, he pushed on, and then destroyed his hamstring in a freak accident that threatened to never let him walk again, let alone surf.

Mick Fanning became almost monk-like. He became focussed, he became driven. Peace came in to his heart. A woman he wanted to marry came in to his life. He started again and became unstoppable.

At the start of the year, he said to friends, “I am going to win the world title while Kelly (Slater) is on tour”. He remained steadfastly commited to that goal until the other day in Brazil where he achieved his dream.

To have an Australian male athlete come through such incredible personal, spiritual and physical hardship to turn around and become the best in the world by focus, positive energy and commitment is truly incredible. For Mick to achieve this goal while the best surfer that’s ever surfed in competition is on tour is mind-blowing. For him to be a role model for young men in this country, a poster boy for positive living, peace in your heart, care of your body and discipline is super fuckin’ duper.
I am so glad that young men of Australia have athletes like him to look up to rather than grubby footy players.

Congratulations Mick, you are super-awesome like Brad Pitt in fight club, except without all the megalomania and insaneness. Ok you’re nothing like Brad Pitt at all. You are Mick Fanning, world champ. Huzzah!!

xx aa

Driving back from the South Coast today I was listening to a giant drag and drop MP3 cd that I’d made while heading out the door.
I happened apon a hidden folder that just turned my day around.

I somehow dropped a shitload of Awesome Led Zeppelin in there and oh my did the slow and rainy drive just fly by.
It got me thinking to how I first knew Led Zeppelin. It was, like through pretty much all of my seminal musical experiences through a musical mentor.

First and foremost, the man who is primarily responsible for most of the rock ‘n roll in my life is Damian Barbeler. He’s now a full-time composer and held in very high regard amongst the Australian new musical community, however back in ‘88, he was a hard-rockin’ guitar hero.

Whn I was just fourteen, he tapped me to play bass in his band, which was super-cool as he was two years older than I.

Through him, I learned about all sorts of groovy things.
Hanging around at his place, eagerly awaiting the first guitar riff to cut through the crackles on the Led Zep or Van Halen record, and when the music hit, they were some of the best goose-bumps I’ve ever had.

So for the Aerosmith, Van Halen (sans Hagar) and Led Zep, Jethro Tull, Yngwie Malmsteen and the early Pink Floyd, Damian I thank you.
However it doesn’t stop there. I have been given many musical gifts in my time.. so:

To Peter Hinder, Michael O’Neill and Naomi Reinder’s big bro (who was studying to be a doctor so that he could prescribe himself anything), I thank you for the Dead Kennedys and the Sex Pistols.

To Chris and Richard Mann, I thank you for the Metallica, the Napalm Death, the Doobie Brothers, the Wings and the Rolling Stones, the Extreme/Poison/ZZ Top/Whitesnake/Black Crowes.

To Andrew Morris, thanks for the Motley Crue and the Extreme.

To Dave “Bubble” Rogers thanks for the Iron Maiden and Pantera, the Ben Harper and the Wilco.

To Brad Mann, thanks for the early Soundgarden and Jane’s Addiction (and a little Danzig).

To Michael Easterman, thanks for the Tower of Power, the P-Funk and the Beastie Boys.

To Seamus Kirkpatrick, thanks for the Frank Zappa, the Jaco Pastorious, the Praxis and all the Bill Laswell.

To David Rudder, thanks for the Brothers Johnson and the Prince and the pre-blood sugar Chili Peppers.

To Dad, thanks for the John Coltrane, the Miles Davis, the Herbie Hancock, the Stockhausen, the Pierre Henry, the John Cage, the Stravinsky, the Bach, the Mozart and of all the other super-wierd stuff that I started with.

To Julie Bennet, thanks for making me dance with every record you ever played ever.

To my big brother David, thanks for the Gunners, the Doors, the Fleetwood Mac and even more Pink Floyd.

To Jeremy Spencer, thanks for the Edgar Winter.

To Travis Henry, thanks for the Stevie Ray Vaughn and all the Queen.

To Doc, Tony, Rene and Dingo for all the Donald Fagen, ELO and Police.

To Michael Duce, thank you thank you thank you for all the Kiss.

Thanks to Levi for all the G-Love and Special Sauce.

To Luke Wallis, thanks for the Josh Rouse and the Ray LaMontagne.

Thanks to Ben Richardson for Gang of Four.

Thanks to Josh Cilento for all the Turin Brakes, Sigur Ros and associated cheese.

To Grant Fitzpatrick for Skull Snaps, Shuggie Otis, Jill Scott and way, way, way too many bands to mention.

I know I have left out many people, but I wanted to give you an idea that no-one finds music by themselves.
We are products of our community and should take every opportunity to share and pass on music that we think others will get a buzz off of.
Every time I hear any one of the bands that I just mentioned, I think about the person who first shared them with me.

I encourage you this week to make a mix tape (cd or whatever) and pass it to a friend. Fill it with songs that they may not know and give it to them with a stoking vibe.
I assure you that you will feel just as much a buzz making the music compilation as they will listening to it.

Now mix it up!

xx aa