Q:You're all fucked up son, sorry.
I’ve got an exam tomorrow and straight after I’m going out to the hospital to see my friend again. I’m hoping they’ve eased off the doping program so I can actually have a conversation with him but I don’t know either way yet. It’s so weird seeing someone I’m so close to be so completely absent in their physical casing. It makes me wonder how much of what usually is there is just a simulation hiding the devastation he, in these moments of stolen lucidity, so clearly feels. I empathise with him now more than I can when he’s out and yet I can’t get two straight words through to him when he’s in those walls.
I’m mostly free after Monday and then I’m sure my issue of the month will be my weight or my reinvigorated tendency of drinking too much. Interaction is turning back into a bloodsport for me and no one wants a bar of it. I wake up missing places I’ve been and there’s nothing in this city that I find interesting no matter how hard I try. Whether I’m moving too fast to see clearly or standing fixed at one point for hours, nothing ignites. If I can hang in there for three more months, I’ve got a long term distraction. I’m not sure I have the self control.
The beer I buy is so trendy, my best friend’s 16-year-old brother takes the cans out of the trash and washes them so he can keep ‘em.
OK SOME REALLY SERIOUS SHIT IS HAPPENING IN NORTH KOREA
According to South Korean newspapers, last week the North Korean government PUBLICLY EXECUTED 80 people in 7 cities for watching South Korean/Western shows, movies, and videos, pornography, or possessing a Bible.
Apparently people’s attitudes and conformance are changing SO THIS IS HOW THE GOVERNMENT IS TRYING TO SUPPRESS DISOBEDIENCE
They allegedly herded 10,000 innocent civilians into a stadium where they were FORCED TO WATCH THE EXECUTIONS BY MACHINE GUN FIRE
1 REBLOG = 1 EXECUTION PREVENTED
I’m not going to go into how a lot of these stories, such as the one about the killing of the all-female DPRK band, are often reported first by Chinese news outlets whose confidential sources are essentially South Korean rumours and that having a Western news outlet regurgitate them does not make them in any way more reputable because that fucking image was taken when god damn KJ Il died.
"Hey, something terrible happened in DPRK! Let’s just take any old picture of some cryin’ Koreans because context is in no way vital! We just need some sad Korean faces for this Tumblr post to show we care!"
Q:Yes I have signed that petition. Where I am, I honestly have not seen anything MAJOR in the media about this issue, and I work with magazines and newspaper publications every day. I have seen a few things, but it doesn't get the same attention as the fashion. I also work closely with the Australian Pet Welfare foundation. I'm not trying to look like a saint but I just wanted to give you an insight on me and peace of mind that I actually do care. Sorry if my post came across the way it did.
Well honestly, good on you for actually making an effort to engage in a constructive way.
It doesn’t get the same attention as the fashion, true. But is that the fault of the media or our fellow people? Those reader priorities aren’t going to be changed by a single circumstance of suffering. It sucks, but I just don’t believe you can blame publications for how that operates or at the very least confine it to the media in a certain region. It would be good to see more about animal cruelty in the media but it’s not because of some evil cover up, (not suggesting you said that) it’s because the average hard news reader doesn’t care.
I can’t believe this actually turned into something diplomatic. That never happens on Tumblr! I was wrong to make the absolute inference you don’t care, keep caring!
A Positive Fury by Herman Apto
The Festival Hub was thriving by 6:30pm. A churning mass of chequered shirts and pork pie hats. The smell of woodchip and beer was as overpowering as the conversations and the sound of ska striking staccato waves through the noise. Among the slew of generations and cliques, a sense of community forged from the love of music shone through. Impossible to tell who was a skinhead and who was just putting it on for the evening, no one cared, just happy to be there for the sound of it all. The Jamaican roots of the music felt right at home in the overly warm evening and in the plates of jerked chicken on offer beside the bars and food trucks.
The musical link between Melbourne and Kingston may seem like a strained one. For many, the emergence of Ska in Melbourne came out of the 80s in the wake of the English reappropriation of the genre. It was only when radio host Mohair Slim followed a producer’s anecdote did he discover the work of the Caribs and an unwritten chapter of Melbourne’s music history. Backstage at a Skatelites concert in New Hampshire, the band’s manager revealed to Mohair that the Skatelites had performed with Australians living in Jamaica. His interest piqued, Mohair uncovered the mystery of the Caribs and scavenged what few records of theirs he could find to play on his radio show. “There were no photos and no one really knew about the story. I was playing one of their songs and saying ‘this is part of The Caribs’ mystery’ and my receptionist buzzes me with a Lowell on the phone…So I pick up the phone and he says “That was me on that track you were just playing”. An hour later…I was sitting on the end of Lowell Morris’ bed and talking about the late 50’s and early 60’s and the birth of the Jamaican sound.”
Mohair was first to appear on stage, introducing the Ska Vendors. Led by the ever-enthusiastic Steven Montgomery, they opened with a fast paced number before launching into their most recognisable track What Will You Do. Within three songs, the audience had surged together, feet and arms jutting out in the skanking style. Sweaty suits and dusty dresses were inevitable in the festival hub’s stage; an indoor hotbox of wood boards and scaffolding that gave the dancehall vibe an extra level of authenticity. Steve Phillips’ performance on drums dominated the act. Towering over the drum kit in an equally enormous pinstripe suit and hat, even the slightest strike with his drumsticks brought a powerful rhythm to every song. Before the Vendors’ set was over, the air was a suffocating tangle with some shuffling to the back or out of the venue for a beer and a breather. It would have been at the cost of missing out on a special treat however, as singer Pat Powell emerged from backstage to lend his deep bellied vocals to the band’s closing songs.