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So Alone

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 01:11:00 +0000

It's late at night
And you need somebody
To talk to
But who of all those people
That you once knew
And if you called
Just what would you say
Would you break down
Straight away

You're so alone
You want to die
And nobody knows

You keep leaving messages
That don't say anything
Like: "Hi, how's it going?"
Pretending you're okay
You disguise your fear
So you don't scare them away
You don't want to go to sleep
Because the nightmares
Keep you awake

Your heart
Is beating strangely
Nausea and pains
Throughout your body

You're so alone
You want to die
And nobody knows

You're so alone
You want to die
And nobody knows

You're so alone
You're so alone
In the night
When people go home

You're so alone
You're gonna die
And nobody knows

You've told everyone
Who ever meant
Anything to you
To please just go away
And now you've got nobody
What are you supposed to do
It's getting late
And the night
Is getting darker
And you're fading away

You're fading away

And you're
Talking to yourself
Is this really happening?
And I'm talking to myself
Is anybody listening?

You're so alone
You want to die
And nobody knows

- Juliana Hatfield

The Finish Line?

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 11:21:00 +0000

How? How do I break in?
How does one enter this maddening barrier?
Colours swarming, patterns without structure,
This silence, deafening everything!

A bridge once more I build,
Only once again to wither into dust
In this toil of bondage sweat pours from my brow
How long can I grit my crackened dead teeth before I eat them all?

Slowly the burden weighs more
My spine now curved and twisting, groaning in pain,
This ballast is almost unbearable
No words of help aid me

Running endlessly for answers, my legs burning
The flames of muted responses boil my aching feet
Still I run, the hope of light... is it even real?
Or am I going in circles?

My cries for help become a repititious background noise
Rebounding off cold stone walls
My pleas echo into the black distance
These attempts... Are they truly futile?

Have I reached the finish line? Am I at the end, or the beginning?

The Deadened Silence.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 16:15:00 +0000

Your muted fearful silence
Lacerates through my mind
Deafening my bleeding ears with its echoes
Ghosts of my past screech, an icy cold wind

Those cold oceanic eyes
That dead unfocused stare
Pale lips, the lifeless words
Do they mean anything anymore?

You hunger for love
Yet existing in loneliness
You long for embrace
Clutch tightly key to your grey prison

Cold and bloodless body, turned to stone
Forever intact your shield seperates me
I long to hold you, encircle your frozen limbs
To warm you as my heart beats finally to a still.

Regression

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Sun, 31 May 2009 11:13:00 +0000

Where there was once light
Now is only darkness.

Where was once hope
Is now hopelessness.

Where once was movement, direction
Now is locked, trapped.

Where once was a dream of completeness
Now seems a vision of gaping empty holes.

Where once I breathed life again,
Now I exist in stagnation, rotting her with my very heart.

Disintegration.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Sun, 31 May 2009 10:51:00 +0000

Always frowning
Never sleeping
Always thinking
Never moving

When will this end?
When will I feel secure again?
When will the sky turn from awful obsidian to blue again?
When will I calm, breathe a sigh of relief?

Always problems
Always uneasy
Always questioning
Never accepting.

When will I smile, lapse safely into sleep at last?
When will I no longer ponder?
When will I become who you fell in love with?
When will everything stop disintegrating?

Weak.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 10:00:00 +0000

With you I'm complete
Life floods with colour
Sounds saturated with tone
Resonating with the happiness of every shred of my being

The most beautiful thing ever to exist
Unparalled in the entire world
More loving than I could ever conceive of
And accepting of every part of me

Why do I crumble, cracking at every corner
Becoming a shapeless powder
Collapsed into grey dust
Ashen, colourless and nondescript.

Why do my arms flail
Feeling like I miss every chance to embrace you?
How have I have lost my balance so quickly
Where once I stood firmly and in comfort?

How did I fall apart like this?

We've Lost Control.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Sat, 27 Dec 2008 15:10:00 +0000

How the hell can we take someone whose creative fire lasts such a short period as a posthumous prodigy?

How come we never thought of the arty bullshit while said artist was alive? They were never revered while alive, why all these fantastical conclusions now?

How is it that we draw conclusions from statements never conceived of nor uttered by the artist, and rather from heresy via magazine articles and various media, which later become blown out of all proportion and then martyred decades later?

Is it our nature to seek meaning from nothing? Are we so lost that we consistently need to make up bullshit in order create direction when in reality there actually isn't any anyway?

So this is what our society has become, an exaggeration based on fiction?

Bit Part (Dando/Morgan)

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Sat, 31 May 2008 11:37:00 +0000

I want a bit part in your life,
A walk-on would be fine.
I just want a bit part in your life,
(A bit part in your life).

I want a bit part in your life,
Rehearsing all the time.
I just want a bit part in your life,
(A bit part in your life).

Little more than a cameo
Nothing traumatic when I go

I want a bit part in your life
A walk on would be fine
I just want a bit part in your life
I want a bit part in your life
Rehearsing all the time I just want a bit part in your life
A little more than a stand in
Won't need repremanding

Has everyone gone completely MAD?

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Mon, 26 May 2008 06:40:00 +0000

The increasing emergence of ultra conservatist behaviour scares me. The last decade, or more specifically, perhaps the last half-decade, has seen Australia's society spiral back to a behavioural standard not seen since the 1950's, and to some extent, some may argue this could include the rights of women as well.

In recent days we have seen the works of acclaimed photographer Bill Henson, whose work is beautiful, dark and unnerving, labelled as child pornography. It is very obvious that this is not the case. Anyone who has seen the exhibitions of Henson's work will clearly recognise there is a central theme, a naked starkness of the realities of urban life and darker emotion explored throughout his works.

I mean no disrespect to our Prime Minister, as in comparison to the previous son of a bitch who led our country, Kevin Rudd is far more in tune with the culture of today. Unfortunately though, this also includes our current conservative social climate. I voted for him with confidence, and overall I have little complaints about his government's performance so far.

I don't lend this situation with Henson's work to be associated to our current government, but rather a social characteristic which has evolved (or should I say, regressed) in the last number of years, most noticably, since 9/11.

The Western world has become overall a frightened place. It seems no one (in mainstream society anyway) is prepared to push the boundaries of expression anymore. This is not good for the current generation of children in schools, or young adults in universities. The future generations should be constantly challenging the norm, there should be a promotion of pushing forward, pushing people to think, to challenge and expand. Conservatism does not exhibit this in its structural characteristics, it creates a clear red line which cannot be crossed.

If we continue to exist inside this red line, it will have disasterous consequences for our society. A clear example today is many mainstream rock bands. They and their fans feel that they are part of something extreme, but the reality is that no matter how many tattoos, sideswept haircuts and tight black jeans they hide behind, they only express something which is acceptable. The emo movement for example, has a public perception of being outside the norm, but the correct observation as many music and art enthusiasts know is that this movement is little more than an attempt to get attention, and actually has little to no philosophical concept to it.

People like Bill Henson are people which Australia badly needs in its current state of conservative, dumbed-down existence. Henson explores what is uncomfortable, and we all need to be reminded of what is uncomfortable, it makes us remember what kind of things really do matter, and that being content with what is superficial and pretty to the eyes is no means of correctness. If Henson's work is indeed banned and charges are laid, then what will we see next? Will we see every work of Brett Whiteley's removed from our galleries too?

These artists are important Australians, they are outside the norm and their work educates and promotes deeper thinking. A new country such as Australia, which is still very much in its adolescence, needs people such as these to push our society and build its character. By culling their work, by discouraging the concept of challenge, all we do is take ten steps closer to what we should really be avoiding: becoming American.

Get over yourself Tania you egomaniac.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Thu, 22 May 2008 09:43:00 +0000

I wouldn't usually write about topics such as this trashbag nonentity that Australia cares so little about that she had to go to India to find work, but I feel compelled to. A couple of years ago I had the unfortunate opportunity to meet this unpleasant woman while ordering coffee at my local.

I couldn't for the life of me figure out who she was, only that she looked familiar and then it hit me. I asked her if she had recently worked in India and she said yes. Her tone was completely condescending, but she asked whether I was Indian, to which I replied that I was. After a few exchanges on my background, she proceeded to tell me how she was more Indian than I was.

Surely if this idiot had any clue she would have realised that that is NOT something you say to someone of ethnic background, regardless of where they were born. Despite my feelings towards the political aspects of my ethnicity, I nevertheless hold it close and never forget my origins. I have never been so insulted in my life and couldn't bring myself to say much more this egomaniac desperado celebrity wannabe, so I politely left.

I would never wish bad fortune on anyone, but I dare say this fool's idiocy must be a pattern if quotes like "It's taken me ten years to be able to get a look-in there … it's a pretty damn tough country to go into as a single, famous foreigner girl" are things she would even say about herself.

With an attitude lacking in humility attitude like this, you deserve every bit of rotten press you get you waste of DNA.

A Single Origin: Zombies and Thrash Metal arise once again.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 12:18:00 +0000

How odd, the journey of music.

Some time ago I posted that my Black Metal journey was at an end for now, and that my foray into Post- and Indie-Rock was (re)beginning. This has not let off, infact I've been enjoying it immensely and continue to do so thanks to some lesser known bands such as Laura, and an up and comer from Norway, Braving The Glacier.

In recent times, my love of Black Metal has taken me into unexpected territory. Explorations into Blasphemer's side project, Aura Noir, Darkthrone's brilliant latest album Fuck Off And Die and newer bands such as America's Toxic Holocaust and Skeletonwitch, combined with an old love of 80s zombie flicks such as Return of the Living Dead have slowly instilled a desire to explore the original catalyst for my foray into more extreme styles: the hallowed halls of 80s Thrash Metal.

It was bands like Megadeth and Slayer, and later (briefly, even though not Thrash) Morbid Angel which led me towards darker extremes, only to be put on ice for around a decade later on.
Recently I've been searching for the earlier, dirty, primitive and more urbanised Thrash bands, and it seems this trend may well continue for me. It takes me back to my roots, and serves as a brilliant tool for further understanding true Black Metal.

It's very interesting listening to Death Angel's "The Ultra-Violence", a pivotal album released back in 1987 by the band when they were still in their teens. Listening to it now, I can easily mentally transcribe it into a Black Metal context. The influences are so clear, it's a fascinating realisation which I am delighted to indulge in, and will continue to for some time to come...

Spiral Of Black Doom.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 14:33:00 +0000

Words, stupid thoughtless words
Unthinking, directionless
Emission of an overactive heart

A love of her magnificent detail
Crumbling into scrutinous shards of broken glass
Speaking cuts of dripping blood

Recoiling, a half-turn to run
Arms flailing, missing the embrace
I streak away into the self-loathing of embarrassment.

Flashback.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 16:59:00 +0000

... flashes, blinding explosions searing the mind,
Each one a return to a euphoric sensuality,
Beautiful contorting bodies, deepening sexualisation of every breath.

Writhing hands, ravenously exploring the smoky rays of light,
Shapes shifting, distorting with each wave of hips and thighs,
Eyes slowly closed, the mind travelling through waves of aural orgasms.

Colours change with each gasping moan, a palettory celebration of heightened sense,
Textures dance with each trickle of sweat, my body a serpentine of expression,
I waver my limbs through the blurring stars, continuing my journey through paradise...

The Painful Departure.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 15:49:00 +0000

... and in the distance thunderclaps peel,
Lighting flashes around my shaking limbs,
As songs of longing echo through turning clouds,
Her ivory limbs finally approach from blackness,
Searing me with gratifying pain.

... touch of raking nails shave defenses with each pass,
Weakened insides exposed to her blinding sun,
Voice of silk condemns me to hell, torching hope of control,
Yearning follower, ardent addict of her beauty.
I am her's, loving slave to my companion,

... and at last, I taste her lips for the last time,
Absorbing her curvature, femininity, I melt into her embrace,
Finally she turns, fading into ebony starlit ambience,
My hands flail, gasping the empty air,
My heart bloodless, screams once more from the dead...

New Interview with Nortt (2008)

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Sat, 23 Feb 2008 14:41:00 +0000

Galgenfrist, Nortt's newest testimonial of the hatred of life and longing for death has been finally released recently by Avantgarde Music.

A new interview with Nortt himself can be read here (thanks Pavillon 666).

The Surrendering Interlace.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 23:06:00 +0000

... flailing limbs fall from blackness,
Towards a shimmering pale embrace.

A scent, tresses of shining gold,
Eyes of crystal, windows to truth.

Breaths short, rhythm of desires,
An interlace of flesh, interlude of energies.

Tremble, aftershocks of familiar unfamiliarity,
Our souls searing into each others hearts.

An unraveling, the freezing anguish begins,
A closing door, silent surrender...

Full Moon

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 22:36:00 +0000

Full Moon

Phoenix of Gold, Enter the Sun.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 19:13:00 +0000

Eyes, crystalline blue of ocean,
Lips, pink of spring rose,
Hair gold, scent of apple, morning dew,
Skin of porcelain, tender birch sapling.

Slender beauty, she treads softly,
Feet slight on the forest floor,
Her touch soft, body caressing petals in passing
Voice whispering, softly singing to waking branches.

Free at last, her soul retained truth,
In the wake of parting clouds, spread her wings,
Taken to the sky, blazing heart of purity,
Resplendent phoenix, she rose at last from the ashes of the dead.

The best fucking unknown rock 'n' roll band in Australia.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 18:18:00 +0000

Eleventh He Reaches London from Perth WILL rule the Aussie indie scene come their new record due soonish.

These guys combine post-rock, elements of metal and sludge to create a fucking mindblowing powerhouse of emotion, power and tonal bliss. Their magnum opus, "The Good Fight For Harmony" almost caused me to order a second copy of it, for myself!

They have recently uploaded a song from their upcoming record entitled "For The Commonwealth And The Queen to their myspace.

Photos from a previous Melbourne show here courtesy of Peter Parsons.

I really can't wait to see these guys live. I'm going to totally wet my fucking pants and buy each one of these gods a drink.

An Unknown Direction.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Sat, 16 Feb 2008 18:54:00 +0000

... and so my war continues...
Patience, once virtue
Now is torture
Two splinters, in heart and mind...

... journeying into wilderness again,
Heart rules the mind once more
Unable to shy away from golden tassels,
To break the lingering oceanic gaze, my fluttering heart...

Dawn skies drift from grey to orange
My eyes closing heavy and leaden, dreaming of that gaze
Aching for a longer embrace
Taste of unknown lips, the scent of unfamiliar skin...

Rich Dinosaur lovers?

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 11:13:00 +0000

An interesting little article over at SMH regarding the slate of classic bands coming to our shores and charging ridiculous prices for their gigs.

On the one hand, I can agree on the steep price issue, but on the other hand, could I give a fuck about a steaming shitpile of a band like Radiohead in comparison to the mighty Iron Maiden? I think not. So in that context, I'll happily hand over my $150.

Circular Rebirth.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Thu, 10 Jan 2008 14:28:00 +0000

I.

To this day and age, it never ceases to amaze me that one person can intentionally restrict another to the point where the other can not express themselves in the way they wish, down to the very books they read, the clothes they choose to wear, even topics they wish to discuss.

This kind of controlling behaviour, especially in relationships, exhibits nothing but psychological abuse. It disgusts me. Control over others is rarely (if ever) with good intention nor result, but this kind borders on abhorrent.

A new friend once entered a partnership with good intention, opening her arms and walking into the unknown with good will and challenging herself at the same time by walking so boldly. It's an admirable act for anyone in my opinion, especially when past experiences, or perhaps old habits have made the challenge difficult or daunting. Nevertheless, she accepted the challenge. She gave it her best, only to be eroded and ground like the sandstone on the Sphyinx to the point where perhaps, she barely recognised herself. Luckily, she did recognise the restriction, so sensitive is her view of the world around her, and made the decision to free herself of it. Now, she flies once more, unweighted by chains.

II.

It's funny how the universe acts. I've walked through a world punctuated with glimpses of colour, yet largely grey and lifeless for some time. The Return has been painful, but reinvention, or chiefly circumnavigation, has been increasingly fruitful. The colours in my world are slowly increasing in vibrancy. Shapes continue to take form, the disconnection lifts.

From the shallows of distant black narcissism and the strain of my limbo has risen another colour to add to the spectrum of positive direction, a reconnection. A severed bond which could not sprout, which was never allowed light in which to grow, has broken free of a bondaged miasma, forming finally as it was meant to form. It emerges almost unrecognisable. No longer governed but free, bursting for light, reborn, in some ways stronger than ever before. Another blast of light cuts into the grey world.

You know who you are. Someone out here is damn proud of you.

Nineties Chemicology

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 04:24:00 +0000

The 90's were my glory days. Not only for grunge and indie rock, but especially for dance music.

Techno, jungle, rave, hardcore (gabba), goa-trance, (true) trance, house, garage. It's all I could think about for an entire decade. Day and night all I ever had on my mind was "when are we going out to dance?"

The days of being up on a box next to a DJ in a shitty club, dancing my ass off with sweat pouring off the walls, my shirt drenched, pissed, e-ing, speeding, coking, fuck knows what. It was my life. The beats... my god, those fucking mechanical beats... they delivered to me an ecstatic abandon like I had never known to exist, and never again experienced anywhere else.

The end of the 90's, and especially, the dawn of the new millennium saw (in my opinion) a big change in dance music. The true artistry waned. The real composers vanished back into the underground, and garbage cheap shit has invaded the mainstream with crappy remixes of remixes of remixes, one after the other. Every club plays a mishmash of soiled and stenched toiletry, devoid of any credible artistic merit and the populace laps it up. I feel sorry for the club generation of today, they just have no idea how diluted their experience is in comparison to the first generation's experience.

It's by chance today that I rediscovered an old favourite record label of mine, Tresor Records from Germany. A pioneering label in it's time, with a club of the same name, Tresor has consistently stayed true to its roots since 1991, continuing to seek and expose true minimalist techno-art, to educate the weak-minded into the realm of mechanic and intelligent soundscapes, and all the while maintaining its brilliant longterm relationships with its artists.

I pray for the day when true electronic music makes its return to the clubs, when this earpleasing doof oversampled elephant dung finally vanishes into the sewers where it belongs, and the true DJ's and composers take their place back on the throne of dance music. It's the biggest hurdle which stops me from going back to clubs. I cross my fingers and wait with anticipation, but perhaps for nothing?

Welcome home, Kevin.

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Mon, 24 Dec 2007 04:36:00 +0000

It seems only yesterday that we saw one of the biggest, if not the biggest election in Australian modern history. We've had a decade or so of conservative rule: fear propaganda, an alliance with the United States (which the Australian public generally opposes), increases in military spending and presence in a war which we have nothing to do with, and the introduction of a workplace system which provides no benefit to workers (and yet all the power to the employers). Combined with a gradual regression of Australian culture which saw us slowly heading back towards the 1950s, these factors all contributed to the crushing and fatal blow delivered to the Coalition by Labor on Saturday 24 November 2007.

I followed the election from the day Mr Rudd took the Labor reigns. He excited me, as he did many others, in providing the final return of a powerful Labor to the federal boxing ring, landing blow after blow on the Howard Government in parliament, and providing the Coalition constant annoyance with his passive, cool tactics.

In the final sitting of Question Time in 2007, we witnessed the finale - an explosive Peter Costello and Tony Abbot, both devout Christians, exhibiting completely unprofessional behaviour while attempting to bully Kevin Rudd. Rudd hit back, sure, but in the end, it was water off a duck's back.

The ashes of the Coaltion's reign are still smouldering, and the Coalition itself seems to still be in a state of disbelief. They certainly haven't taken their defeat in good sportsmanship, with Peter Costello resigning straight after the election and then publicly blaming John Howard for the loss. While not a fan of the Coalition's policies, I would have liked to have seen Costello leading the Opposition. It would have provided for very interesting battles between the new Government and the Coalition.

As it did with Labor from 1996 to 2007, it will take time for the Coalition to re-fuse, rebuild and re-balance, but all this will be worthless if the Coalition does not attempt to modernise itself. With the old-school style influence of Howard now gone, the Coalition will need to modernise its brand of conservatism in order to properly compete against the new Government if it has any chance of contesting the leadership of the country at the next federal election. No doubt, there will be a lot of shuffling of seats over the coming months, and we may not even see Brendon Nelson as the Opposition leader for long, but that is all part of rebuilding your team so it can perform again.

The new government has got off to a flying start and the public has taken this in good stead. Only less than a month into the new Prime Ministership, and Mr Rudd has already delivered (if not begun to action) on his election promises. Sometimes I have to blink twice - is it really possible that we have a new Prime Minister who is really listening to the people? Is it too good to be true? Does my KEVIN07 shirt which I wore so proudly on November 24th, causing gorgeous after gorgeous woman at the Bondi Hotel to hug me or peck me on the cheek actually still have real market value?

For me, New Year 2008 is an exciting time not for the usual fireworks and parties, but because we will soon see a return of a Parliamentary Sitting, and it is here that the nation will turn its eyes to the new Prime Minister and also to our female Deputy Ms Julia Gillard, of whom every woman across the country should be proud of.

Following a busy schedule since Novermber 24th, Mr Rudd returned home to Australia today. In his wake lies the death of Workchoices, Australia's signing of Kyoto, increased rights for gay women, a stronger anti-stance on Iraq (and most importantly more in-line with our country's feeling about it!!), reduction in Japanese whale hunting, and this is all just the beginning.

Welcome home, Kevin. Your country awaits.

I can't help it

noreply@blogger.com (Hubster) — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 07:18:00 +0000

Everytime I see the words "Prime Minister Kevin Rudd" I beam with pride. I can't begin to describe how happy I am that the bastardous Coalition is off the throne.