The other week I watched Howl, and now all I can think about is Remington typewriters and readings in smoky New York clubs, and James Franco as Allen Ginsberg talking about falling in love with Jack Kerouac, and about falling in love with Neal Cassady, and about wanting to write so that they would “understand, nakedly, how I felt”, and about being in the psych ward, and saying, “There is no Beat Generation. It’s just a bunch of guys trying to get published.”

And all I can think is that if I was a cute guy all I would ever wear would be big black Ray-Bans and white t-shirts and plaid shirts. And then I thought, well, maybe I’ll just do that anyway.

Sometimes I get this feeling like, hey remember how I used to draw and stuff? And then I sit down with my charcoals and I realise how out of practice I am and it’s one of those things that just is not like riding a bike. So I cheat a little and I trace bits and copy stuff and I scribble and cry, and my cat walks all over it with his cute little paws and tries to eat it. But then I scan it in and adjust it a little and I feel kind of happy.

Anyway, I did this thing of Andrej and it was fun for me. (more…)

[Updated, maybe with slightly more collected thoughts this time.]

The Stars (Are Out Tonight), the second single from David Bowie’s upcoming record The Next Day, was released earlier this week, and it’s kind of everything. The song is beautiful, grungy and melodic, with a sweeping energy that is unmistakably Bowie. But what’s more exciting is the way it is brought to life in a strange, gorgeous and beguiling video, starring Tilda Swinton, Andrej Pejic, Saskia de Brauw, and Iselin Steiro.

It’s like a creepy little arthouse film – disturbing, sexy and utterly bizarre. Bowie and Swinton (who many have long suspected may actually be the same person) play a straight-laced, middle-aged couple living quietly in the suburbs. “We have a nice life,” Swinton says, kissing Bowie on the cheek as they do their supermarket shopping. He is starting distractedly at a magazine cover featuring an incredibly young, glamorous and decadent celebrity couple plastered on the cover. Then he tosses it aside. “We have a nice life,” he agrees firmly. (more…)

I know it’s so three years ago to even care, but I think I need to take a moment to debrief on the end of Gossip Girl. Sure, it sort of fizzled out after the first few seasons, and the finale was just a little too sappy to really make up for it, but there was still something about it that made me remember why I loved it so much to start with. (more…)

In honour of Taylor Swift Week (because, shut up, yeah?) I’m thinking about everything red.  Everything that looks red, and feels red, but is also black and white in a way. Lacy, romantic Valentino dresses. My favourite Kate Moss lipstick. Someone playing an acoustic guitar, just for me. I see perfect nights, saturated with the smell of champagne, where you laugh so much your belly hurts, and you think your girlfriends are the most beautiful creatures you’ve ever seen. Or dancing to Call Me Maybe in someone’s backyard. Or lazy mornings curled up with someone warm, feeling their skin against yours and knowing you’ll remember it one day. Knowing that it’s rare, but also so simple. Dreading the day when you might hate each other. Remembering out of nowhere a forgotten ember of hurt, and wondering if he ever remembers you, if he still has a box of your things. I see nights walking slowly down the street alone, feeling like you’re underwater, and coming home to throw your high heels at the wall and cry into your cat’s fur. I see Vera Wang wedding gowns, stained an inky garnet, dripping off pale skin. Red leaves, cold wind, long hair. Falling in love with the smallest things, and wondering how anyone in the world couldn’t be in love with that gap in his teeth.

That’s what Red sounds like to me.

It kind of looks like this.

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Cross-posted at ArtsHub

A tightly packaged collection of new Australian writing, Overland has always been amongst the most engaging and intellectually stimulating Australian literary journals. With a blend of politics, economics, literature and culture interspersed with short fiction and poetry, Overland achieves a commendable balance of progressive thought and entertainment.

True to standard, issue 206 presents a solid and cohesive selection of work. One of the standout voices is that of aspiring African-Australian actor Tariro Mavondo. In her personal essay ‘The danger of a single story’, she considers the way ethnic diversity is treated in Australian cultural products, particularly television shows. Remembering black characters in shows like Home and Away and Neighbours ¬– always portrayed as ‘the desperate illegal other’ – Mavondo explores the position of the migrant artist, and wonders if the current push for ‘colour-blind casting’ in theatre will help to encourage change. (more…)

Whether they love it or hate it, everyone’s talking about Girls, the new HBO show by 25-year-old Lena Dunham. If you’ve missed some of the discussion (which is understandable, in little old Australia, where we have to be crafty to be able to even watch the same TV shows as our friends in the US), there is of course a Shit Girls Say About Girls video to help get you up to speed.

Generally, the spectrum of responses stretches between these two poles:

• Girls is groundbreaking and completely relatable for our generation
• Girls is about privileged hipsters whining about White Girl Problems

After just two episodes, there’s already a pretty frenzied debate between the lovers and haters of this show (and also some bitching from some fool from the band Girls who thinks it’s super disrespectful that they stole the name.) There are clearly plenty of women who relate closely to the experiences of the girls on the show, who feel that it represents them and their lives and their generation. “It’s like they broke into my house and filmed my life,” one girl in the Shit Girls Say video says. But there are also a lot of women who can’t relate to it – and so they feel a little betrayed, like they were promised something else.

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In Utero is probably one of my favourite albums of all time and everything, but I can’t help thinking it could use a few more kittens. JUST SAYIN, I would have made it a bit more like this:

Kitten Utero
1993, Kitten Records

1. Serve the Kitten (“Kitten angst has paid off well/ Now I’m bored and old.”)

2. Scentless Kitten (“He was born senseless and scentless/ He was born a scentless kitten.”)

3. Heart Shaped Kitten (“Meat-eating kittens forgive no one just yet/ Cut myself on angel hair and kittens’ breath.”)

4. Kitten Me (“Kitten me my friend/ Kitten me again.”)

5. Frances Kitten Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle (“She’ll come back as a kitten/ And burn all the liars.”)

6. Dumb Kitten (“I think I’m kitten/ Or maybe just happy… My kitten is broke/ But I have some glue.”)

7. Very Kitten (“If you ever need kittens please don’t/ Hesitate to ask someone else first.”)

8. Kitten Milk It (“Left kitten, right kitten, broken kitten/ Lack of kittens and or sleeping.”)

9. Pennyroyal Kitten (“I’m a liar and a kitten/ … I’m anaemic kitten.”)

10. Kitten-Friendly Unit Shifter (“What is wrong with kitten?/ Kitten is what I need.)

11. Tourette’s Kitten (“Everything kitten sees/ Is all wrong.”)

12. All Kitten (“What else should I be?/ All kitten.”)