Summer...

...hasn't turned out at all like I thought.

I thought:

• My band Disgraceland would be gigging by now, instead of waiting for a couple of members to hurry up and write their parts.

• I'd be enjoying long nights on rooftop gardens listening to jazz/live drum'n'bass, drinking alcohol-free cocktails, and enjoying conversation.

• Greg would be getting laid like the batchelor he is, every night. He's just been staying at home for the last month, watching tv.

• I'd feel different.

• I'd have finished building my chopper, and I'd be riding it by now.

• Other stuff.

The once-clearly defined seasons of my youth have dissipated into some kind of amorphous gloop, the whole concept of summer has been confused.

That's Me!bourne for ya.

I went to the beach at St Kilda yesterday and died a thousand deaths looking at hot Italian girls with enormous hoo-ha's (and the water, of course).

I played Monopoly with myself the night before (I won).
I was the racing car and the wheelbarrow, and, true to form, the racing car finished up with all the hotels and owning most of the properties, with around $4500 cash and no mortgages, while the wheelbarrow creaked over the finish line with no cash, no property, and in debt to the bank.
De Sade would have been so proud- I totally whipped my ass.

I have discovered eBay six-hundred years too late, and am currently looking at, wait, I'm not telling. But I'll totally show off in 4 days 21 hours, if i get it.

I have hooked up another monitor to my PC of doom, so now it is the most ridiculously torqued-out piece of circuitry this side of R2D2. And an extra hard drive. And a DVD Burner. Holy crap, I'm buying a missile array for it.

I went through my records 2 days ago, and smiled a lot. I forgot how many cool albums I have in there. I also forgot I had 'For those about to rock' by you-know-who on vinyl too.

Believe it or not, and. speaking of which, I was fucked around by yet another journalist last week.

As a rule, magazines are cool to deal with, and genuinely dig knowing about and sharing knowledge of your creative output.

But NEWSPAPERS JUST WANT TO STEAL WHAT YOU MAKE, MISREPRESENT IT, AND MAKE YOU JUMP THROUGH HOOPS FOR THE SUPPOSED PRIVELEDGE, every time.

I had organised with Liam Houlihan from the Herald Sun to do a photo shoot for them in AC/DC Lane, wearing a mask to hide my identity.

This is necessary, the second my photo turns up at the cop shop associated with graffiti, I go to jail.

For 2 years.

So, no thanks.

At least on a blog I have an element of deniabilty, you know?

It was all organised, and agreed upon, but on the day, the photographer turns up without him, and then says I have to put my hands over my face, no mask.

I said "Good day, Sir", and went straight back home, thanks for wasting my fucking time.

When i got in, i found an email from Liam Houlihan, saying basically if I change my mind, and decide to go do a photo their way, and not the way we had agreed on, to let him know.

Fuck that.

Every time I do anything for a newspaper (and, sorry to break it to you Liam, but I've been in HUNDREDS of newspapers all over the world), they have spun it out of context, misquoted, and fucked me around in every way possible.

Journalists are leeches, without exception, and I have vowed to stop being so fucking accomodating, and to never answer a request from a newspaper again.

I've already hit the top- A colour photo of me was the cover of the Evening Post in Wellington, NZ, 6 times the size of the little pic at the bottom of the page celebrating Michael Jacksons wedding.

I'm bigger than Jackson, yo.

I can't wait for the piece to come out, so i can marvel at how I've not only been misquoted, but to witness firsthand how they will paint me as some die-hard AC/DC fan, so morally outraged at the exclusion of a lightning bolt from a street sign, that I was determined to risk imprisonment to right the wrong perpetrated on the band by the man.

When in reality, I'm a street artist, and if I wasn't doing that, i would have been doing something equally awesome in another alley, someplace else.

In fact they will probably write (from knifey's blog) "I...a...die-hard AC/DC fan, (was) so morally outraged at the exclusion of a lightning bolt from a street sign, that I was determined to risk imprisonment to right the wrong perpetrated on the band by the man."

Fucking leeches.

In other news, I am heartily sick of stupid little bottons on the internet.

If you want me to press it, make it ENORMOUS.

I'm sure my hand is going to fall off whenever I visit 'AmIHotOrNot.com', and I have to spend 6 years trying to will the mouse into clicking on the tiny dots to vote.

Seriously, fix it.

I put all of my magazines into a pile yesterday, and it is 15 feet high.

We're talking Wallpaper*, i-D, IDN, Oyster, Black Book, While You Were Sleeping, Monster Children, Cause Celebre, bla bla bla.

And i should be happy that I have so many, but instead I have a file that tells me which back issues I need to buy to complete my stes.

Like a geeky widdle nerd!

I don't like today. I don't like it at all.

NEWS JUST IN...

The article is up, here it is:

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THE EYE

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Rocking on: the AC/DC sign.

Bolt from the black for AC/DC

16feb05

Lane name that had no street cred has been fixed.

MELBOURNE City Council might think twice next time they overlook a little thing like a lightning bolt.

Seems their teeny-weeny omission of a bolt on the new ACDC Lane has sparked a crusade by a music purist.

Local street artist and rock fan Knifey was none too happy about the oversight and he was determined to make amends.

First he tried Texta, and then paper, but Knifey just wasn't satisfied with the results.

Because when you're talking about AC/DC, Australia's rock gods, only the best is good enough.

Eventually the bright spark came up with the idea of a metal bolt and, with AC/DC playing in his headphones, hammer-drilled it into the laneway wall.

"I did it because it should have been done properly in the first place," he said.

"I felt it was a totally hollow gesture to name a lane that way but not even bother to get it right.

"Kind of like cashing in on AC/DC and giving nothing in return. You know, like leaving the `rock' out of beau-rock-racy."

So, here we are thinking the man might need something more in his life.

But the weirdest part about all of this is that Knifey – apparently his friends call him that – has made somewhat of a name for himself over the little stunt.

His recording of the sign makeover, which he posted on his internet weblog, has emerged on websites and magazines around the rock-loving world.

"AC/DC are one of those bands that have such an intensely loyal following," he said.

"Doctors love them, strippers love them. If it was Crosby, Stills and Nash Lane I don't think that many people would care that much."

And now we hear there's a chance Knifey's idols may get to view his tribute later this year.

Rumours are flying that AC/DC will return this year for a secret gig in the Melbourne laneway that has become a shrine to their hard rock achievements.

This year marks the 25th anniversary of AC/DC's classic album Back in Black.

PS: Knifey would not appear in a photo because he is convinced the police and council are after him over his artistic endeavors.

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And here is my response, emailed a minute ago:

Liam- a couple of points regarding your article...

"with AC/DC playing in his headphones" - Never said it.

"You know, like leaving the `rock' out of beau-rock-racy." - Never said it (or spelled it with such blatant disregard for the English language- it would have been bu-rock-racy, as in, 'bureaucracy').

"Knifey's idols" - Never said it.

"PS: Knifey would not appear in a photo because he is convinced the police and council are after him over his artistic endeavors".

For the record (as if you didn't already know this), the reason I didn't appear in a photo is because you renegged on the deal we had set up. Nice one painting me as a paranoid delusional though, that's a very 'newspaper' touch.

I made the effort to come into the city and be at the spot on time. You never bothered to show up, and obviously never cleared the idea with your pictures editor before agreeing to the mask idea.

So for you to paint me as you have, when you couldn't even show me the courtesy of dealing with me in a professional manner, is pretty weak..

As far as "You know, like leaving the `rock' out of beau-rock-racy." is concerned, what I actually said was "Kinda like cashing in on AC/DC, and giving nothing in return.
Typical bureaucracy versus rock music.", but then you know that already, as I emailed it to you.

Do you just make this up as you go along, or what?

I just want to register my total lack of surprise, as yet another newspaper journalist misquotes me, and despite getting plenty of words to work with, still misses the point.

Just once I wish you people would faithfully report something with a bit of flair, a bit of passion, and without having to sensationalize any of it.

This is the last time I deal with a newspaper again (with the exception of Patrick Donovan at The Age, who could teach you more than a thing or two).

You truly are the lowest rung on the ladder of reportage.

Cheers for the disrespect, let's hope you don't need anything from me in future.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.