I had a blast last night-
went out to dinner with the guys, delicious pub food & drinks.
art opening at tortuga studios... it's great to be in with the bartender ;)
then partied till 5am at an illegal squatted warehouse party..
live bands, djs... the cops let us be. =)
- Fritz Misanthrope
- Hedonist. Adventurer, Artist, Photographer, Poet, Revolutionary.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Evicted
The Eviction
I was out, givin downtown Sydney another go, exploring art galleries. Was dissapointed by the exhibits, but still in a good mood. I came back to the suburbs and stopped by the cafe for a cup of esspresso and a free sandwich, and chatting with the rad barista girl.
I asked her if she wanted to go drinking Thursday, she said she'd come over to my place after work to hangou and because she wanted "to take pictures of the place before it all implodes". I was feeling great and made my way back to the squat. The whole walk back I thought about how great it was that the property owner is an American living in the USA with no intent of renting the place out.
When i got home, everyone was sitting around in the bar, a dark cloud hanging over the group. I said hello and checked in. After a few pleasantries they broke it to me: "The cops came by and evicted us. We have to be out by Friday."
"what????"
They explained:
The pigs came by with a real estate agent who was bein paid by the property owner to check on the place. Apparently, said realator hadn't noticed people living here for he last 6 months.
The cops took everyones IDs and walked through the house. They said the owner had no intention of using the property at all, but we had to leave.. They said they would be back Saturday morning and we had to all be out.
The story shook me up.
Everyone was somber. You could read it on their faces- 'not again'. They had finally felt a sense of home. For six months they had been unopposed in this residence. Now it was time to pack up and move again.
It obviously effected me less than everyone else. I already had my ticket to leave the country on Saturday. Besides, I'm a full time traveller; I am used to living out of a backpack and being ready to load up and move out in mere minutes. The people I had been staying with were very different. They are looking for a more permanent situation. They want a home.
A meeting was scheduled between members of this house and the next door neighbors, also squatters who had the same property owner and thus- situation. They wanted to keep the community that has developed and build upon it.
I went out for the night, cashing in on the luxury of being a vagrant.
This morning, the mood was still dreary. The sunshine and beautiful day didn't help at all. As I made breakfast, people came with dollies and moved out the stand-up freezer and started breaking down the kitchen.
The squatters talked about their dreams of somewhere to live;
"I wish I had a van I could live in, then this wouldn't be a problem. Even just a car, some roof that I could always sleep under."
"I just got to get my tent fixed, then I'll be ok."
"yeah, I reckon I'll be camping for a bit"
A few new buildings had been opened in the night and some of the people were moving in there. Others were looking at where to move their stuff as they would be living on the streets for a while.
The move began, packing and transporting, mending clothes, sleeping bags and tents.
I was out, givin downtown Sydney another go, exploring art galleries. Was dissapointed by the exhibits, but still in a good mood. I came back to the suburbs and stopped by the cafe for a cup of esspresso and a free sandwich, and chatting with the rad barista girl.
I asked her if she wanted to go drinking Thursday, she said she'd come over to my place after work to hangou and because she wanted "to take pictures of the place before it all implodes". I was feeling great and made my way back to the squat. The whole walk back I thought about how great it was that the property owner is an American living in the USA with no intent of renting the place out.
When i got home, everyone was sitting around in the bar, a dark cloud hanging over the group. I said hello and checked in. After a few pleasantries they broke it to me: "The cops came by and evicted us. We have to be out by Friday."
"what????"
They explained:
The pigs came by with a real estate agent who was bein paid by the property owner to check on the place. Apparently, said realator hadn't noticed people living here for he last 6 months.
The cops took everyones IDs and walked through the house. They said the owner had no intention of using the property at all, but we had to leave.. They said they would be back Saturday morning and we had to all be out.
The story shook me up.
Everyone was somber. You could read it on their faces- 'not again'. They had finally felt a sense of home. For six months they had been unopposed in this residence. Now it was time to pack up and move again.
It obviously effected me less than everyone else. I already had my ticket to leave the country on Saturday. Besides, I'm a full time traveller; I am used to living out of a backpack and being ready to load up and move out in mere minutes. The people I had been staying with were very different. They are looking for a more permanent situation. They want a home.
A meeting was scheduled between members of this house and the next door neighbors, also squatters who had the same property owner and thus- situation. They wanted to keep the community that has developed and build upon it.
I went out for the night, cashing in on the luxury of being a vagrant.
This morning, the mood was still dreary. The sunshine and beautiful day didn't help at all. As I made breakfast, people came with dollies and moved out the stand-up freezer and started breaking down the kitchen.
The squatters talked about their dreams of somewhere to live;
"I wish I had a van I could live in, then this wouldn't be a problem. Even just a car, some roof that I could always sleep under."
"I just got to get my tent fixed, then I'll be ok."
"yeah, I reckon I'll be camping for a bit"
A few new buildings had been opened in the night and some of the people were moving in there. Others were looking at where to move their stuff as they would be living on the streets for a while.
The move began, packing and transporting, mending clothes, sleeping bags and tents.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Last Days in Melbourne
Day 4 Melbourne
Woke up late and had coffee and breakfast. A few bongrips, then I was on my way downtown. I stopped by an Internet cafe for an hour to update my blog, then went back to the National Gallery of Victoria to check out more art.
The impressionist paintings were phenomenal, and a good amount of abstract expressionism. Glad to see some old favourotes:
rothko
picasso
matisse
monet
cezanne
Magritte - one of my absolute favourites.
I was quite taken by the furniture design exhibit and the contemporary art section had a great series by Damien Hirst.
fancy ass cradle.
Hirst
Warhol
Oceanic art blew me away, the collection from Paupa New Guinea and New Zealand was amazing. The gallery closed and I stopped by "Lord of the Fries" for a box of chips.
oceanic masks.
Jumped a tram down to Barricade Books for the vegan cake competition, had a rainbow love themed cake and a pirates revenge sea shepherd themed one, both were good, unfortunately I was too late to try the cake that had won the coveted 'most scrumptious' catergory. I hungout and chatted with Melbournes radicals until the shop closed, then headed back to the squat.
Everyone at the house was pregaming for going out to a party that night. I joined in for some beers then we mounted bikes and took off into the chilly winter night.
A couple mile ride, me on a wobbly Frankenstein-bike, and a stop at the bottle shop before we got to the party. I walked in first, as the unknown American guy, demanding; "I'm here to drink your booze!". I was greeted with confused looks and a few chuckles.
My friends came in behind and reassured eveyone: "this is Fritz, he's a good cunt". I was called a 'good cunt' more in that one night than I have been in my whole life up till then combined. Its a term of endearment here.
The party was crowded with people who had been at the cake compititon. We drank hard, listened to punk rock and woody guthrie, and laughed the night away. I ran out of beer and started hitting the cask wine (known by the kids here as 'goon' - not space bags).
Around 5 in the morning, two kiwis I was staying with got in a bit of a scuffle with two other people at the party and were told to leave. I joined them and made the cold ride back to the squat. We bullshitted around the living room for a bit before passing out on the floor.
A few hours of sleep and I woke up sore and haggard - the goon had gotten the better of me. The Sydney crew piled in the car and hit the road for the 10 hour drive north.
Woke up late and had coffee and breakfast. A few bongrips, then I was on my way downtown. I stopped by an Internet cafe for an hour to update my blog, then went back to the National Gallery of Victoria to check out more art.
The impressionist paintings were phenomenal, and a good amount of abstract expressionism. Glad to see some old favourotes:
rothko
picasso
matisse
monet
cezanne
Magritte - one of my absolute favourites.
I was quite taken by the furniture design exhibit and the contemporary art section had a great series by Damien Hirst.
fancy ass cradle.
Hirst
Warhol
Oceanic art blew me away, the collection from Paupa New Guinea and New Zealand was amazing. The gallery closed and I stopped by "Lord of the Fries" for a box of chips.
oceanic masks.
Jumped a tram down to Barricade Books for the vegan cake competition, had a rainbow love themed cake and a pirates revenge sea shepherd themed one, both were good, unfortunately I was too late to try the cake that had won the coveted 'most scrumptious' catergory. I hungout and chatted with Melbournes radicals until the shop closed, then headed back to the squat.
Everyone at the house was pregaming for going out to a party that night. I joined in for some beers then we mounted bikes and took off into the chilly winter night.
A couple mile ride, me on a wobbly Frankenstein-bike, and a stop at the bottle shop before we got to the party. I walked in first, as the unknown American guy, demanding; "I'm here to drink your booze!". I was greeted with confused looks and a few chuckles.
My friends came in behind and reassured eveyone: "this is Fritz, he's a good cunt". I was called a 'good cunt' more in that one night than I have been in my whole life up till then combined. Its a term of endearment here.
The party was crowded with people who had been at the cake compititon. We drank hard, listened to punk rock and woody guthrie, and laughed the night away. I ran out of beer and started hitting the cask wine (known by the kids here as 'goon' - not space bags).
Around 5 in the morning, two kiwis I was staying with got in a bit of a scuffle with two other people at the party and were told to leave. I joined them and made the cold ride back to the squat. We bullshitted around the living room for a bit before passing out on the floor.
A few hours of sleep and I woke up sore and haggard - the goon had gotten the better of me. The Sydney crew piled in the car and hit the road for the 10 hour drive north.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Day 3
Melbourne day three
Waiting for the cops to evict the squat. They came on Monday to say they were evicting today and came back yesterday to remind everyone. We woke up early to a dreary, windy, drizzling day and thought that hopefully the cops have enough heart not to throw people out into the street in such miserable weather. Still, everyone spent time packing up the important stuff just in case it really happened.
The tension was thick all morning, guesses were made as to if and when the cops would show up. There was a rumor that the property owner might show up and find the squatters were better to have around than the local hooligan kids who regularly trashed the space before the punks moved in.
Nobody wanted to leave and miss the actual eviction. Of course, we all had our fingers crossed that it wouldn't actualy happen.
Every knocking sound led to people jumping up and anxiously hustling to the door, more often than not inky to find someone had been tapping on something in the kitchen. The house was cleaned up a bit and incense lit, an effort to put the best foot forward.
We sat around in the common room listening to loud music and playing games, waiting for the action. There was talk that if they hadn't come by 5 they wouldn't come at all. After a particularly long, slow day, this deadline came and went; no cops.
We breathed a sign of relief.
At 5:30 people saw cops out back. Someone near a window heard them talking on their radios. The word went through the house - gametime.
People gathered their last possesions that had been left out, iPods and phone chargers mostly. With the iPods gone, and everyone anticipating the Knock, the whole house fell silent. A dozen punks in various stages of sobriety, just minutes ago rowdy and wrestling on the floor were now eerily quiet.
We waited for a few minutes. I went in the backroom, the only one with a door to the outside world to see what I could see out the peephole. Nothing.
Someone walked downstairs "I think theyr'e gone" maybe they weren't here for us..."
I took a breath. Life went back to normal.
By 7 they still hadn't come, so I got my stuff loaded into a friends car in case the eviction happened while I was away and caught a tram to the Melo: Down Under event.
Waiting for the cops to evict the squat. They came on Monday to say they were evicting today and came back yesterday to remind everyone. We woke up early to a dreary, windy, drizzling day and thought that hopefully the cops have enough heart not to throw people out into the street in such miserable weather. Still, everyone spent time packing up the important stuff just in case it really happened.
The tension was thick all morning, guesses were made as to if and when the cops would show up. There was a rumor that the property owner might show up and find the squatters were better to have around than the local hooligan kids who regularly trashed the space before the punks moved in.
Nobody wanted to leave and miss the actual eviction. Of course, we all had our fingers crossed that it wouldn't actualy happen.
Every knocking sound led to people jumping up and anxiously hustling to the door, more often than not inky to find someone had been tapping on something in the kitchen. The house was cleaned up a bit and incense lit, an effort to put the best foot forward.
We sat around in the common room listening to loud music and playing games, waiting for the action. There was talk that if they hadn't come by 5 they wouldn't come at all. After a particularly long, slow day, this deadline came and went; no cops.
We breathed a sign of relief.
At 5:30 people saw cops out back. Someone near a window heard them talking on their radios. The word went through the house - gametime.
People gathered their last possesions that had been left out, iPods and phone chargers mostly. With the iPods gone, and everyone anticipating the Knock, the whole house fell silent. A dozen punks in various stages of sobriety, just minutes ago rowdy and wrestling on the floor were now eerily quiet.
We waited for a few minutes. I went in the backroom, the only one with a door to the outside world to see what I could see out the peephole. Nothing.
Someone walked downstairs "I think theyr'e gone" maybe they weren't here for us..."
I took a breath. Life went back to normal.
By 7 they still hadn't come, so I got my stuff loaded into a friends car in case the eviction happened while I was away and caught a tram to the Melo: Down Under event.
Melbourne day2
Day 2 Melbourne
Got up and made breakfast, hungout around the squat while people got ready. We got a crew together and made our way to Barricade Books, Melbourne's anarchist bookshop.
After a halfhour tram ride, we got there and walked in the door. Two fellas working inside looked shocked, "uh, were not open, we just happen to be here tossing some rubbish".
Dissapointing.
We ventured on, walking through town and along a beautiful river path. Eventually we came to our lunch destination, "Lentils as Anything".
The restraunt is amazing, all vegan, lots of gluten-free options, and a voluntary pay system - everyone is allowed to pay whatever they believe the food is worth. Yes, if you're a dick and don't want to pay anything, that's ok. (except that you're a dick) It's staffed entirely by volunteers, and is run as a nonprofit, to create a diverse communIty environment. The place is open for breakfast, lunch and dinner and meals are prepared en mass and laid out buffet style. Each day has completely different menus. For lunch we had salad and four different curries with rice and coffee to drink.
"Lentils as Anything" occupies a building in 'The Convent' which is an old nunnery which is now used as a large community space run by the state Heritidge Society. A Stiener School, comunity gardens, a glass blowing studio, holistic health center, and contemporary art gallery all share space at The Convent.
I explored the grounds and took pictures while my friends digested lunch and played on the grass. After a bit we trekked down to the nearest pub for drinks and to wait until dinner was served at "Lentils".
At six o'clock we went back and had a Nepalese feast for a low, but fair price. Some more time hanging out in downtown, then back to the squat for the evening.
Got up and made breakfast, hungout around the squat while people got ready. We got a crew together and made our way to Barricade Books, Melbourne's anarchist bookshop.
After a halfhour tram ride, we got there and walked in the door. Two fellas working inside looked shocked, "uh, were not open, we just happen to be here tossing some rubbish".
Dissapointing.
We ventured on, walking through town and along a beautiful river path. Eventually we came to our lunch destination, "Lentils as Anything".
The restraunt is amazing, all vegan, lots of gluten-free options, and a voluntary pay system - everyone is allowed to pay whatever they believe the food is worth. Yes, if you're a dick and don't want to pay anything, that's ok. (except that you're a dick) It's staffed entirely by volunteers, and is run as a nonprofit, to create a diverse communIty environment. The place is open for breakfast, lunch and dinner and meals are prepared en mass and laid out buffet style. Each day has completely different menus. For lunch we had salad and four different curries with rice and coffee to drink.
"Lentils as Anything" occupies a building in 'The Convent' which is an old nunnery which is now used as a large community space run by the state Heritidge Society. A Stiener School, comunity gardens, a glass blowing studio, holistic health center, and contemporary art gallery all share space at The Convent.
I explored the grounds and took pictures while my friends digested lunch and played on the grass. After a bit we trekked down to the nearest pub for drinks and to wait until dinner was served at "Lentils".
At six o'clock we went back and had a Nepalese feast for a low, but fair price. Some more time hanging out in downtown, then back to the squat for the evening.
Melbourne, day 1
Day1 Melbourne
Staying at the drunk-punk squat; an old apartment complex with 5 large units, all opened into one group house. The walls are covered in graffitti, the only water is piped in through an intricate hose system. The recenty found a water heater and now have hot showers. The pisser is a brown spot in the front yard, they shit in an outside toilet and bucket flush with greywater from the kitchen sink-drain bucket.
Woke up early had some dumpstered breakfast and coffee and headed out to the pub for a few rounds of pool. Esher and I took the tram downtown where she showed me "Sticky" a zine shop underneath the main train station, and "Lord of the Fries", a vegan fry shop with heaps of delicious sauces to choose from.
We split ways and I explored the Melbourne botanical gardens before going to the national gallery of Victoria to check out the worlds largest collection of Salvador Dali's work. The exhibit was amazing, showin his early work - following the techniques of ancient masters, his surrealist work and his late period. The cartoon he made with walt Disney was beautiful and his work with ballet and jewlery making phenomenal. I was also quite glad to see the "lobster phone" in person.
After spending hours at the show, I ventured into downtown Melbourne's nightlife. I caught the tail end of a yuppie fundraiser for groups feeding the local hungry, and got a cup of soup from one of the city's top chefs for $.60! From here, I followed a group of college students in costume to a party on the wharf that I B.S.ed my way into: "I'm Robert's friend, he asked me to take pictures". I ate their pizza and drank their booze before leaving.
Checked out a few pubs, only to be dissapointed. Went back to he squat to passout in a corner of an abandoned room.
Staying at the drunk-punk squat; an old apartment complex with 5 large units, all opened into one group house. The walls are covered in graffitti, the only water is piped in through an intricate hose system. The recenty found a water heater and now have hot showers. The pisser is a brown spot in the front yard, they shit in an outside toilet and bucket flush with greywater from the kitchen sink-drain bucket.
Woke up early had some dumpstered breakfast and coffee and headed out to the pub for a few rounds of pool. Esher and I took the tram downtown where she showed me "Sticky" a zine shop underneath the main train station, and "Lord of the Fries", a vegan fry shop with heaps of delicious sauces to choose from.
We split ways and I explored the Melbourne botanical gardens before going to the national gallery of Victoria to check out the worlds largest collection of Salvador Dali's work. The exhibit was amazing, showin his early work - following the techniques of ancient masters, his surrealist work and his late period. The cartoon he made with walt Disney was beautiful and his work with ballet and jewlery making phenomenal. I was also quite glad to see the "lobster phone" in person.
After spending hours at the show, I ventured into downtown Melbourne's nightlife. I caught the tail end of a yuppie fundraiser for groups feeding the local hungry, and got a cup of soup from one of the city's top chefs for $.60! From here, I followed a group of college students in costume to a party on the wharf that I B.S.ed my way into: "I'm Robert's friend, he asked me to take pictures". I ate their pizza and drank their booze before leaving.
Checked out a few pubs, only to be dissapointed. Went back to he squat to passout in a corner of an abandoned room.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday and Tuesday
I got up early (8am! yikes!!!) and made my way to the local office supply store where I had to pick up a USB drive because my camera chip was full. I came back and dropped my photos and cleared the camera... finally, room to shoot freely.
Made a run to the library for blogging and then over to the cafe for a long black. The lovely barista, Nina, gave me a free gourmet deli sandwich also, win! =)
Came back to the squat to get ready for People's Kitchen... a cooked an apple crumble to go with the vegan feast. About 2 dozen people came by and we had a great meal and an impromptu juggling session with jugglers far better than I am.
Pierce juggled while riding a skateboard in a little circle in the bar multi -tasking at its finest.
After people left, I repacked my bag and went to bed.
Tuesday was another early day, Esher, Jack, Jase, Jess and I all piled in the little Hyundai, made stops for petrol and snacks; then drove the 10 hours South to Melbourne.
Got in around 10, We're staying in a 5 unit apartment that's been squatted. It was an old party hangout for local kids who trashed the place. Now, Melbourne drunk punks have opened it as a living space, repairing the damage that party kids did and barricading it against further intrusion from vandals and junkies.
Unfortunately the cops came by two days ago and told them they have to get out by friday. The cops were sympathetic and said that this group is obviously far better than the kids who come to trash the place and get wasted, but the owners have asked that anyone there be told to leave. The squatters are thinking about trying to contact the property owner and plead their case - that it's better to have people who are looking for a long term housing option in your building, fixing and protecting it from kids looking to get munted and smash things. who knows how it'll work out.
Today I'm out on the town in Melbourne... exploring and having fun.
Made a run to the library for blogging and then over to the cafe for a long black. The lovely barista, Nina, gave me a free gourmet deli sandwich also, win! =)
Came back to the squat to get ready for People's Kitchen... a cooked an apple crumble to go with the vegan feast. About 2 dozen people came by and we had a great meal and an impromptu juggling session with jugglers far better than I am.
Pierce juggled while riding a skateboard in a little circle in the bar multi -tasking at its finest.
After people left, I repacked my bag and went to bed.
Tuesday was another early day, Esher, Jack, Jase, Jess and I all piled in the little Hyundai, made stops for petrol and snacks; then drove the 10 hours South to Melbourne.
Got in around 10, We're staying in a 5 unit apartment that's been squatted. It was an old party hangout for local kids who trashed the place. Now, Melbourne drunk punks have opened it as a living space, repairing the damage that party kids did and barricading it against further intrusion from vandals and junkies.
Unfortunately the cops came by two days ago and told them they have to get out by friday. The cops were sympathetic and said that this group is obviously far better than the kids who come to trash the place and get wasted, but the owners have asked that anyone there be told to leave. The squatters are thinking about trying to contact the property owner and plead their case - that it's better to have people who are looking for a long term housing option in your building, fixing and protecting it from kids looking to get munted and smash things. who knows how it'll work out.
Today I'm out on the town in Melbourne... exploring and having fun.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Sunday
Sunday
Woke up a bit groggy from dubstep. Had some dumpstered whole grain bread with avo and ripped a bong, then packed up a carload of people to head to the beach, taking advantage of the 27degree day.
We were heading to a little known beach that Jase suggested, but got there and found the place crowded. We should have fiured it I would be, being warm as a summer day in the middle of Australias winter, and a Sunday to boot!
We had stopped for beers and sat on the beach, relaxing and recovering from the night before. I read a bit from my book and snapped a couple photos but didn't walk around or explore much. We evently cruised to Newtown for kebabs,
Came home for a lazy sunday evening and went to sleep fairly early - midnight.
Woke up a bit groggy from dubstep. Had some dumpstered whole grain bread with avo and ripped a bong, then packed up a carload of people to head to the beach, taking advantage of the 27degree day.
We were heading to a little known beach that Jase suggested, but got there and found the place crowded. We should have fiured it I would be, being warm as a summer day in the middle of Australias winter, and a Sunday to boot!
We had stopped for beers and sat on the beach, relaxing and recovering from the night before. I read a bit from my book and snapped a couple photos but didn't walk around or explore much. We evently cruised to Newtown for kebabs,
Came home for a lazy sunday evening and went to sleep fairly early - midnight.
packed to the brim with excitement
bonfire the night prior
stargazing.
I woke up again in the mansion on the Wombarra beach. Had a cup of coffee and made a few calls back to the states. Then, Carmen and Lonnie and I piled in the car and made our way up the mountain. Our destination was a small river where we could rent a row boat and paddle around for the day.
A quick stop for some chips (fries) and wattle (native tree) ice cream, and we were back on the road. We wound our way through the lush forest and before I knew it we pulled into the parking lot in front of the boatshack.
A small sign out front said "non-swimmers must wear a life vest". It was about 1:30 and just slightly chilly out, being the Australian winter. A boat rental would cost $20 for an hour, $28 for two hours, and $30 until 5pm. We each pitched in 10 and loaded in the old boat. The girls were well prepared, Carmen in her tri-corner pirate hat, and Lonnie wearing a sailor cap. I felt underdressed.
Lonnie paddled while I took pictures and Carmen played a melodica she had brought. Ducks sat in the water, crested cockatoos flew about. The river wound through an amazing gorge - walls of beautiful rock surrounded us. Diverse flora sprouted up anywhere it could get a foothold. Eucalyptus, wattle trees, bottlebrush and conifers growing everywhere. The stone cliffs punctuated with crimson flowers.
After about an hour of paddling we got to the end of the line, a rocky patch that boats couldn't get past. There were a few families here having picnics; we got out to explore. I took some pics and found a metal staircase leading up into the bush. After a minute two men came walking down. "Any chance there's a pub up there?" I asked.
"nope, sorry mate."
I walked up to the top anyhow, to make sure they hadn't been lying.
We hung out for a bit then started the paddling back to the boatshack, arriving just as they sent a motorboat out to remind people the rentals were due back. I looked through some old pictures they had, showing the boatshack had been a functional business since at least 1908, such history! It looked like the rickety boat we had used could have been left from that early era.
We made a quick stop to pull invasive weeds, but found we were greatly outnumbered and gave up. They gave me a ride to the next town north where I caught a train back to Sydney, where Jack had already taken my gear.
After I found my station and walked home, I made a quick dinner and headed out to the pub with Jack for drinks and free pool. A few pitchers later and more of our friends showed up. They got even more pitchers and we ran the table for a bit before we all decided to mosey over to Dirty Shirlows to check out dubstep night.
As we walked up to the venue at about 11:30 and found a few small groups of people drunk and high, laying in the grass, or peeing in corners instead of waiting to use a toilet inside. The dull bass trembling of the music could be felt while we were still over a block away.
I walked in the door and saw the front room crowded with friends. Figure Eight and The Hutch were both out in force, along with the squatter crew I rolled in with.
The whole Shirlows warehouse was packed with dubstep fans, it was hard to walk through the thick crowd, an tough to get any real space to dance in.
I made the rounds, saying hello to people and checking out the bar and djs. Some friends were having a hard time getting in, so I gave them a hand and we got the party started.
We danced and drank until 5am and decided it was time to call it quits, I thought about heading to figure eight for the after party, but decided to call it a night. Made the walk home with the squatter crew and passed out on a couch.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Moved out to the countryside
I left the city last night, it was definitely time. Under cover of darkness, I piled my gear into a communally owned little beater car and drove with my mate Jack over to his friend Nina's father's house. On the way over, he warned me, "Her dad is a little crazy, very nice, just crazy, an old anarchist from the acid generation."
Jack knocked on the door. It flung open and I was staring into the wild eyes of an little man. Jack had hit the nail on the head. Rory said hello and introduced himself. He was a fair bit shorter than I, wearing black shorts and an Anthrax t-shirt under a black button up shirt. He was manic, to say the least. Talking a million miles a second, he covered the topics of music, food, shitting and blowing bubbles before we got all the way in the door.
He found the right punk rock to play for being in the kitchen, handed me a beer, and walked us back to where Nina was. The walls of the house were covered in punk posters from the 70s and 80s as well as post modern art and political slogans. Each room had immense collections of records and CDs. Nina, Rory, and Hans - a young guy from Hood River, Oregon, were playing a board game. Nina looked at me, "are you German?"
"nope"
"oh it's a German game, I was wondering if you knew it."
They continued. Rory was upset because he was loosing and accused them of teaming up on him. He talked about how tricky and conniving his daughter was and how he wished to vanquish all his foes.
It dawned on me. This guy is a cartoon character... he can't be real at all.
I talked with Hans a bit about Oregon, travelling, and photography - a hobby we both share.
Nina asked Rory to come help with a bit of construction they were doing on her squat. He said he'd come, but he wanted there to be girls there. "Surrounded by women... I dont want to do anything with them, I just like the company of females.... Make sure they're Asian, and in nurses uniforms..." He went on about this for a while, "Lesbians! I love lesbians!" he exlaimed.
"Nothing wrong with that", I chimed in.
Rory excused himself to get another beer. He left Jack in charge: "If either of them tries to cheat me in this game, you kill them both, Jack. Rivers of blood. The whole room should be rivers of fucking blood... Fritz, you just sit there and watch, you're a guest, Jack has it covered."
When Rory came back, someone had changed the music. "WHO PUT ON THIS HIPPY SHIT?? Well, it's ok, I don't mind."
They finished the game and we finished our beers. Nina got her gear and we walked out to the car, ready for the trip to the countryside.
An hour later we pulled into a driveway. It was unpaved but covered by an arch of short,fat palm trees; barely tall enough to drive the little car under.
The house is the most beautiful squat I've ever seen. It is on the beach and you can almost feel the mist from the ocean while standing on the deck; the roar of the surf is a constant, relaxing sound. The house has 5 bedrooms, home to 4 adults and a child. They have been living here for 2 years, fixing the place up and making it quite a home.
the Backyard
Almost all the exterior walls are floor to ceiling windows giving amazing views of both the ocean and the lush property surrounding the building. It's tucked away in a jungle of palm and exotic plants, giving the place a wild feel. The interior has hardwood floors and wood slat walls. Wild parrots, cockatoos and kookaburras fly around and land up close and personal, examining us as much as we examine them.
They have a collection of animal parts that makes me feel right at home. Nina keeps a lovely banzai garden as well as the veggie garden, which supplements the main source of food for the house - dumpstering. They use greywater and only bucket flush their toilet, a note above it says "we don't waste precious clean water on our shit, please bucket flush from the bath or shower water." Their commitment to living an ecologically healthy lifestyle is quite apparent - putting "green consumerism" to shame.
mask with porcupine quills
eagle head
Kangaroo Claw
Carmen, one of the housemates, shared her interest in astronomy (and rum) with me (who knew nothing about the Southern Sky) on the deck for the night, getting out her telescope and star charts. We looked at the moons of Jupiter and searched out star clusters, I was glad to finally be away from the light pollution of the big city.
Today I went for a walk along the beach & took these shots:
Jack knocked on the door. It flung open and I was staring into the wild eyes of an little man. Jack had hit the nail on the head. Rory said hello and introduced himself. He was a fair bit shorter than I, wearing black shorts and an Anthrax t-shirt under a black button up shirt. He was manic, to say the least. Talking a million miles a second, he covered the topics of music, food, shitting and blowing bubbles before we got all the way in the door.
He found the right punk rock to play for being in the kitchen, handed me a beer, and walked us back to where Nina was. The walls of the house were covered in punk posters from the 70s and 80s as well as post modern art and political slogans. Each room had immense collections of records and CDs. Nina, Rory, and Hans - a young guy from Hood River, Oregon, were playing a board game. Nina looked at me, "are you German?"
"nope"
"oh it's a German game, I was wondering if you knew it."
They continued. Rory was upset because he was loosing and accused them of teaming up on him. He talked about how tricky and conniving his daughter was and how he wished to vanquish all his foes.
It dawned on me. This guy is a cartoon character... he can't be real at all.
I talked with Hans a bit about Oregon, travelling, and photography - a hobby we both share.
Nina asked Rory to come help with a bit of construction they were doing on her squat. He said he'd come, but he wanted there to be girls there. "Surrounded by women... I dont want to do anything with them, I just like the company of females.... Make sure they're Asian, and in nurses uniforms..." He went on about this for a while, "Lesbians! I love lesbians!" he exlaimed.
"Nothing wrong with that", I chimed in.
Rory excused himself to get another beer. He left Jack in charge: "If either of them tries to cheat me in this game, you kill them both, Jack. Rivers of blood. The whole room should be rivers of fucking blood... Fritz, you just sit there and watch, you're a guest, Jack has it covered."
When Rory came back, someone had changed the music. "WHO PUT ON THIS HIPPY SHIT?? Well, it's ok, I don't mind."
They finished the game and we finished our beers. Nina got her gear and we walked out to the car, ready for the trip to the countryside.
An hour later we pulled into a driveway. It was unpaved but covered by an arch of short,fat palm trees; barely tall enough to drive the little car under.
The house is the most beautiful squat I've ever seen. It is on the beach and you can almost feel the mist from the ocean while standing on the deck; the roar of the surf is a constant, relaxing sound. The house has 5 bedrooms, home to 4 adults and a child. They have been living here for 2 years, fixing the place up and making it quite a home.
the Backyard
Almost all the exterior walls are floor to ceiling windows giving amazing views of both the ocean and the lush property surrounding the building. It's tucked away in a jungle of palm and exotic plants, giving the place a wild feel. The interior has hardwood floors and wood slat walls. Wild parrots, cockatoos and kookaburras fly around and land up close and personal, examining us as much as we examine them.
They have a collection of animal parts that makes me feel right at home. Nina keeps a lovely banzai garden as well as the veggie garden, which supplements the main source of food for the house - dumpstering. They use greywater and only bucket flush their toilet, a note above it says "we don't waste precious clean water on our shit, please bucket flush from the bath or shower water." Their commitment to living an ecologically healthy lifestyle is quite apparent - putting "green consumerism" to shame.
mask with porcupine quills
eagle head
Kangaroo Claw
Carmen, one of the housemates, shared her interest in astronomy (and rum) with me (who knew nothing about the Southern Sky) on the deck for the night, getting out her telescope and star charts. We looked at the moons of Jupiter and searched out star clusters, I was glad to finally be away from the light pollution of the big city.
Today I went for a walk along the beach & took these shots:
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