The United Altered States of Maryam

The thing about winter is that it’s really cold. No, really. Why are you laughing? It’s a valid statement. Obvious, but valid. They say, “Oh, winter in the Gold Coast is mild enough for pussies.” So I’m thinking oh, okay, so maybe some “winters” aren’t very cold. But then no, if it wasn’t bloody cold, it wouldn’t be called “winter”, would it?!!!! I’m freezing my ass off here!!! Dude, if I wanted to freeze my ass off I would’ve gone to Uni in Antarctica or something (so what if there isn’t actually a Uni in Antarctica?). Not the Gold Coast. And yet here I am, having my ass frozen off. The weatherwoman on TV says, “-- temperature 3 degrees Celsius below average…” And I’m thinking below average?! Below average?! Dude, if I wanted below average I would check my own IQ score! I want average! You would think one could easily get “average” seeing as it is the “average” but no, here I am freezing my ass off! Indeed, that’s what I thought. Sure, 3 degrees Celsius below average only means that some nights and early mornings are 2◦C or 4◦C which doesn’t sound too bad until you take the fucking wind into account. The fucking wind! Dude, if I wanted wind, I would face your ass. Instead, I’m FREEZING MY ASS OFF HERE! Now I know what they mean by “the bitter cold”. Of course I would. I’m freezing my ass off here.

And I’m standing out here in the cold, blowing wind trying to light a cigarette which won’t light in the fucking blowing wind. The fact that I can’t feel my hands doesn’t help. I haven’t had any feeling in my fingers since last Thursday. A friend thinks that all the brain chemistry altering recreational holiday activities have done some serious damage to my brain/ nerves. But I say, “because it has been cold, stupid!!! I’m freezing my ass off here!” Ok, so why not wear gloves? Have you ever tried to light a cigarette or a bong with gloves/ warm woolly mittens on? It’s difficult. And besides, who would think that they would need winter gloves in the Gold Coast?! It’s the Gold Coast! Do they put sad, shivering, cold people on their brochures? No! Bikinis, Bikinis, Bikinis. Ok, what about fingerless gloves? You do know those things are antithetical to utilitarian, right? Someone didn’t invent it because their palms were cold but their fingers were hot.

Some day, someone will name a band after me. The Maryams. Or The Maryam Disco Liberation Regime. Or Rage Against the Maryam (not related to Rage Against the Machine™.)

Ok, where was I? Previously, I had been caught out in the rain 6 separate times in two days. So standing out in just the cold, blowing right now isn’t too bad in comparison if I ignore the long arms of Hypothermia reaching out for me. And I’m coughing like a Puss That Ate the pair of Fugly Furry Boots - yesterday, I think one of my ribs came out with my phlegm. So you’re probably wondering, (or at least, I should explain since I brought it up) why is it I’m outdoors in the cold and smoking?

“Because I like it,” is D’s answer and she says it with absolutely no guilt or regard for political correctness. It’s politically incorrect now to give smoking any sort of positive representation, isn’t it? Even smokers must now publicly flagellate themselves every time they light up. And make remarks like, “Oh, it’s so bad for me, I really should quit”, “I don’t know why I do this, I don’t like it anymore and it’s bad for me” and of course, “kids, don’t do this at home. you’ll regret it. I know I do” Yes, this might be merry and true and all but it doesn’t change the fact that we like it which is what makes it not only a health issue but a political one. And a bit of a social taboo. After all, the only things worth disputing, hiding, regulating and covering up in this world are the things that people enjoy, no – sex, drugs and money?

D and I are one of the few suckers stuck taking a course in winter school at uni while everyone else is on holiday in warm, Thailand or on a snowy mountain slope somewhere snowboarding or having a European summer or in a smoky basement just traaaaavelin’ in their miiiiiinds, baaaaybeh, trrrraaaaaavelin’ without movin’. It’s not that we’re card-carrying members of the Yearn to Learn Club or anything; we just have no choice if we want to graduate some time this year. And D is getting married in September. Me, well, my fee-paying parents have had just about enough.

So we thought alright, it’s just an 8-day course. We didn’t take into account that it would be the most boring course on Earth (take my worst subjects – technology, graphic design, grammar & editing, lump it into 8 days and call it a course!) and that it would be the coldest, wettest, windiest 8 days ever. And each day started too early in the morning and went on for 7 rubbish filled hours. We had Lecturer #1 – old, crusty, battle-weary veteran journalist someone had dust out of a file cabinet somewhere- regaling us with stories about the good old days of DOS and manual printing and steam engines, about the times he was in Vietnam/ Lebanon/ Timor/ working at The Times in London and Lecturer #2 – not too young too old, fashionably sensitive but too cool to care, kinda hot if I wasn’t too cold to notice, trying to outshine the more experienced #1 with the latest in technospeak and how as a music-journalist he was once flown first class to Sydney, put up in suite at a 5-star hotel and got to party, drink lots of champagne with VIPs, celebrities and err……Jimmy Barnes. Some underground organized crime honcho who was also some band’s manager was trying to bribe Lecturer #2 into giving his band a good review. But after accepting all that, #2 went ahead and gave the band a shit review. And apparently the Honcho told him to watch his back and ooh yeah, he’s been a hunted man ever since.

And of course, Lecturer #1 had to go, “That reminds me of the time I interviewed Princess Di & Dodi Fayed’s bodyguard in Timor, you know, the guy that was the only one to survive the car crash. Everyone wanted to interview him but no one could find him. No one but me, that is. I had sources telling me he was in Timor and keep in mind that Timor was a very dangerous place at the time. And I asked him a few questions about the accident and he got mad. Keep in mind he’s a former SAS man because that’s how he became Dodi’s bodyguard, he was trained to kill. He had a gun sitting on the table between us and he threatened me ‘I better not see you here again in Timor or you’re going to get it!’”

“Well, that’s interesting,” said Lecturer #2, “Anyway, it’s important as a journalist that you know how to do everything even if it’s something that an editor or a sub or a secretary should be doing because when you work in a small paper, you have to do everything. I work in a small newsroom so I have to do EVERYTHING. Which means, if I wanted to, I can simply walk in and find employment in any news room anywhere in the world because I’m used to doing everything! I can do everything. I’m not only a journalist, I can sub-edit!”

Claps. Well, okay then, Woodward & Bernstein. See? Do you see now why people like D and I would rather walk out into the cold and increase our risk of lung cancer/ pneumonia/ hypothermia then sit indoors, in the warm relative comfort of the lecture theatre? You know, this wouldn’t be an issue if the world were more considerate to smokers. We’re bending over backwards here just so you guys don’t have to suffer the ill-effects of second hand smoking and die of lung cancer before we do.

I remember this one time, I was having a post-dinner smoke outside a remotely charming restaurant in Byron Bay and making sure that I stayed as far away from the door as possible (without you know, having to actually go too far) and just you know, trying to completely absorb all the smoke into my system so I wouldn’t be blowing out any smoke into your precious, passing non-smoking faces! This other dude was there having a pre-dinner smoke and he said to me, “Ah-ha, yet another social outcast!” Yes, smoking had made us social outcasts. Clearly the days of Grease, Rebel without a Cause and all those other Smoking-Is-Cool-Movies are over. Now you might as well be a leper in ye good olde’ days and be isolated with all the other nasty lepers in a far flung place where no one else wants to be - in the case of cold weather; it’s outdoors. “I don’t understand, why can’t they just install in those things in the ceiling which like sucks out all the smoke up into this vent and away instead of sending us outside like dogs every time we need a smoke?” continued Social Outcast Dude, “The bathroom in my parent’s house used to have that thing or something like it. I used to smoke weed with my mates in there all the time when I was 15 and my mom never smelled a thing………” Oh well, I remember thinking back then.

Yeah, everything’s well when you’re not freezing your ass off. I’m oh fucking not so well now, I’m not. I’m freezing my ass off!

“You know, very soon there will be nowhere left for us to smoke,” says D. “Not even outdoors. Do you know what happened to me the other day? I was sitting with some mates, outdoors, you know, and this chick came and asked if she could sit at the empty spot at our table and we were like yeah, whatever, free country right? She had her iPod headphones in her ears and like 10 books with her and she sat there and started studying. She looked a bit Indian… not that I have anything against Indians and Asians right, don’t get me wrong; it’s just related to the story……”

For the record, because it’s related to the story, D has big, blonde hair and light eyes.

“…So, she’s sitting there reading her book with her iPod like blasting in her ears, I know it’s loud because I’m sitting at the other end of the table and I can hear like the bass of the song. My mates and I were talking and smoking and suddenly she screamed at us ‘could you all quiet down? I’m trying to study here! And don’t fucking smoke around me!!!’ I’m like look, bitch, it’s not like my mates and I came to your table and disturbed your fucking peace. You came to us. And this is like one of the few non-smoking areas left in the universe. If you wanted some place quiet and smoke-free to study – they built a nice building for that – it’s called the library! And we’re not in it!”

And I say, Testify!

“And guess what she said? She went psycho, she was like ‘fine, so I suppose I should go back to my own country, now? Because this is YOUR table, YOUR country!!’”

Bitter, was she?

“More like crazy. My country? Is she joking?” D grumbles, “My father’s French and my mom’s Bosnian and I was born in Bosnia. I barely speak fucking English!”

Posted by Maryam at 4:41 AM | Permalink |

They say that more people are interested in voting for their Pop Idol than they are for their own president. If this is true, then to provide an analysis of a country’s political climate, culture & sensibilities, one only needs to study their respective, democratically-elected Pop Idols. Let’s try it shall we?

To celebrate an entire nation agreeing with my opinion that Julien is bloody awesome, I’ve decided to post up videos of Julien. Because I can.

1. Here is Julien, pre-idol days with his band, Dig Up Elvis, playing the song Back Rickenbacker. I have no idea why his vocals sound like a mock imitation of Billy Corgan’s here. You can visit their MySpace Profile for more

2. Here is the music video for Fuck You Now by Julien’s other band, The Jean D’Ormesson Disco Suicide (feat. Dig Up Elvis). No, that’s not Julien in the video. You can visit their MySpace profile for more

3. Here is Julien at the Marseille audition of Nouvelle Star. Watch out for “Funny Fishy Pussy Song” at the end.

4. Here is Julien being told that he has made it to the Nouvelle Star finals before being slobbered over by two brunettes and going home to find some friends coming out of the closet:

5. Here is Julien doing his take on Madonna’s Like a Virgin. Oh, the tease

6. Here is Julien performing (with lots of feeling Enrique Crying Face and all) Cristophe’s Les Mots Bleu. Has a touch of Michael Bolton-cheesiness to it but hey, it works.

7. In case you missed it the first time, here is where Julien did wonders with Alizee’s Moi Lolita

8. Here is Julien performing I Put A Spell on You

9. Here is Julien pushing Britney’s Hit Me Baby (One More Time) to hyper-ridiculousness.

10. Here is Julien performing Dalida’s Mourir Sur Scene. So Cheesy, it’s good

10. Here Julien goes all cute with Sabine Paturel’s Les Betises

11. Here is Julien performing Tainted Love

12. Here, Julien has obviously eaten the same seizure-inducing breakfast cereal favored by that dude from The Vines (remember them anyone?) (The Kinks – You Really Got Me)

Here I am. There is no Julien. Bah!

Posted by Maryam at 2:07 PM | Permalink |

Yup, it’s that blessed, out-of-the-blue time of year again where I share a list of songs that have been burning a hole in my iPod lately from repeated plays………

1. The Eighth Sign of Ageing, Apparently

- Mi Par D’Udir Ancor performed by Enrico Caruso
- O Figli O Figli Miei performed by Enrico Caruso
- Una Furtiva Lagrima performed by Enrico Caruso

I recently admitted to a friend that my ideal weekend now would consist of curling up in bed with a cup of chai latte, listening to opera or watching it on SBS (Bless, your tiny budget, SBS). “OPERA?!!! OPERA??!! Dude, you are getting old,” was her response, “Funny, you of all people liking opera...” Why is that funny? Is it because I’ve shown such an affinity for trash culture? Well, opera’s kinda trashy to me, like glam rock – melodramatic, over the top, sorta wanky – what’s not to like?

2. Return of a Childhood Heroine (No, not She-Ra)

- Big Wheel by Tori Amos
- Teenage Hustling by Tori Amos
- You can bring Your Dog by Tori Amos
- Body and Soul by Tori Amos
- Code Red by Tori Amos
(all from her latest album, American Doll Posse)

I idolized this woman in my pre and early pubescent years although I have to admit, her last two studio albums prior to American Doll Posse, The Beekeeper & Scarlet’s Walk left me feeling like she had become a little pedestrian. But now she’s back in my (ears). Enjoyable songs aside, I’m really taken by the concept behind American Doll Posse. On it, Tori performs as five different female characters – all based on female characters from Greek mythology yet all essentially representing different aspects of her own personality. It’s a comment on how the world has a way of fragmenting and compartmentalizing women - from Greek Mythology to Sex and the City – you’re either a fighter or a lover; a virgin, a mother or a whore; Charlotte or Miranda; Paris or Hilary, hence you get dumbass articles like in the Gold Coast Bulletin (Feb 3-4 2007) asking young women whether they prefer to be Paris, who is meant to represent beauty or Hilary Clinton (brains). Oh and a note to Pussycat Dolls who call their brand of sexiness “female empowerment”, I’m sorry to tell you this, but that’s just skankiness – you could learn how to do it right from Tori. Still, several mainstream radio stations in the States refused to play Tori’s Big Wheel because of the lyrics “I am an M-I-L-F, don’t you forget.” Puritan cunts. No, hypocrites – they clearly have no problems playing Fergie rhyme about her lovely lady lumps and humps 178 times a day.

3. A Classic and A Persistent Issue

- A Change is Gonna Come by Sam Cooke

The sheer brilliance of the King of Soul, Sam Cooke’s 1964 song on racism hasn’t faded over the years. Unfortunately, neither has the issue. We’re lucky(?) enough for it to be more covert these days but I wouldn’t say it has faded.

3A. My, my, how Clever

- Disco Sheets by Wolf Parade

I want to clarify that I have nothing against “indie” music (although some of it is full of bull); it’s mostly the “indie” scene these days that make me want to wrinkle my nose and stick a gun up yours. Full of people enamored with their own (perceived) cleverness and (perceived) individuality but how indie is “indie” when all the “cool kids” (I use this term not without irony) are doing it now? Of course, I myself am enamored with my own (perceived) cleverness but it doesn’t mean I’m fond of other people who are; it’s kind of like how your own stink never smells as bad to you as someone else’s. Anyhow, KJ has been rabidly promoting her music-man-love-of-her-life-Canuck-of-the-Year, Spencer Krug (Kere and I like to call him The Crud) and his bands, Wolf Parade & Sunset Rubdown to anyone that will listen for some time now and well, she finally got me with this song. I think it has something to do with the element of electronic wankery. I’m a sucker for these things. I like beeps. And no KJ, I’m not a sucker for disco, I’m not a disco fan, please don’t use the word disco unless you’re referring to Saturday Night Fever or Donna Summers. Actually, I quite like Donna Summers. What? It’s Hot Stuff.

5. More Cleverness!

- Hang Me Up to Dry by Cold War Kids
- Hospital Beds by Cold War Kids
- We Used to Vacation by Cold War Kids
- Saint John by Cold War Kids
- a few new songs they played at their Brissie show (sorry, I didn’t catch the names)

More indie cleverness than you can shake a big clever stick at but these guys don’t seem so enamored with themselves and I think I might just be a fan. Went for their show at the Tivoli, Brisbane with KJ on Thursday night and for lack of a better superlative, it was fucking brilliant (note to The Walkmen: this is how you should perform live). It’s a shame I hadn’t slept for 48 hours prior to that and had two major assignments worth 50% each due in Uni the next day, one of which I hadn’t even started on. Takes the joy out of being at the show a bit, but hey, that’s not the band’s fault.

6.Enough with the Cleverness – Give me them 3-Chord Proto Punks Again!

- Down on the Street by Iggy & The Stooges
- No Fun by Iggy & The Stooges

No attempts at being clever, just raw and primal, all bullshit hence no bullshit. I think I’ve mentioned it on this blog before – I absolutely love Iggy & the Stooges, man. Every word that Iggy sings (at this phase in his career) speaks to me like nothing else can right now. Yes, “no fun to hang around, feeling that same old way, no fun to hang around, freaked out for another day” and “RRRRAWWWWRRRRRRR!!!!” pretty much sums up my life at the moment. Cheers!

7. For When It Rains

- Nickel Plated Man by Eleni Mandell
- My Twin by Eleni Mandell
- Pauline by Eleni Mandell
- Hearts a Mess by Gotye
- Seven Hours with a Backseat Driver by Gotye
- Thanks for Your Time by Gotye

I love Eleni Mandell’s sultry, alto voice. It works well with the slow-burn of Nickel Plated Man and the simple, steady (but driving?) bass of Pauline. It’s not music to shout about; it’s the kind of music that’s pleasant to listen to on a rainy Saturday afternoon, curled in an armchair, staring out the window with a hot drink in one hand, a cigarette in another and mull over whatever it is you need to mull over. Nels Cline (Wilco) and DJ Bonebrake joins in on the low-key New Orleans-style jazz of My Twin. The three songs by Gotye, from the album, Like Drawing Blood were recorded in a home studio. It’s essentially sample-based music/ audio collage – and I know what you’re thinking, sample based music + home studio usually ends up as flat as my chest not to mention repetitive and droning – kind of like hearing the sound your own head produces when you’re watching paint dry. These songs however, I’d be happy if my head produced it – songs for when a rainy Saturday afternoon transitions into a slightly chilly Saturday evening and you’re trying to slowly warm yourself up to the prospect of going out ………and then you realize you’d rather stay at home since all the clubs in the area play shit music.

8. Francophilia

- I’ll Kill Her by Soko
- Dame de Lotus by Emilie Simon

I’ll Kill Her sees Soko rallying against the chick her man dumps her for, is oddly cute despite the fact that she’s threatening homicide and oddly funny too – she sings in her cute, French accent, “All she’s got is blondeness….. She’s clever-less, she will dump your ass for a model called Brandon and you will pay for beautiful surgery…” As for Emilie Simon’s Dame de Lotus think: if Kylie had a love child with Bjork and raised the kid in France – well yeah, that’s what you get. Come to think of it, Soko’s voice sounds like Bjork’s talking voice. (Or maybe for some reason, it’s just me that’s hearing Bjork in everything right now).

9. It’s Only Glorified Karaoke, But I Like It (Francophilia 2)

- Moi Lolita performed by Julien Doré

An acquaintance once said that no self-respecting “real” music fan should be caught promoting contestants from a reality TV talent search/ glorified karaoke. Uh, if this is true then I guess I’m a self-disrespecting fake music fan since I’ve been caught (alive) promoting – Rock Star INXS’ JD, Rock Star Supernova’s Ryan Star & Josh Logan and Australian Idol’s Bobby Flynn. C'est pas ma faute; I was born that way. Now shut it you elitist tit and watch as I do it again:

Ladies & Gentlemen, all 3 of you, say hello to Julien Doré – contestant of the French version of Idol, Nouvelle Star

Did I mention that he can also play guitar, piano and…..the ukulele? Oh yeah, ukulele. That’s sexy. (Yah, yah, KJ, you’re going to mention Spencer and his accordion, I bet). Also, anything said in French is sexy, even if it’s “I have indigestion.”

10. Miscellaneous but Not Least (I’m Just Too Tired to Type Much More)

-Look at You by Screaming Trees
-House of the Rising Sun by the Animals
- Strange Fruit performed by Billie Holiday (and the Jeff Buckley version)
- Gotta Serve Somebody by Bob Dylan
- The Crystal Ship by The Doors
- I Put a Spell On You/ Feeling Good performed by Nina Simone
- Fight the Good Fight by Triumph (yes, one Double CheeseRock with pickles, please)
- Girl, You’ll be a Woman Soon performed by Urge Overkill
- Cowgirl in the Sand by Neil Young
- Rehab by Amy Winehouse
- Invincible by Ok Go
- What Goes Around Comes Around by Justin Timberlake (hahaha, yeah, yeah, despite the fact that I should hate the Mr.-Look-At-Me-I’m-So-Grown-Up-Now-I’m-A-Misogynist! on principle...well, I do hate him on principle but I like him on the fact that he uses a lot of beeps in his songs. I like beeps. You can go ahead and hit me over the head or you can just live with it. I have a soft spot for Britney too and I AM NOT ASHAMED)

Posted by Maryam at 5:48 PM | Permalink |

READ HIS BUM AND TELL YOUR FUTURE – this was printed in bright pink on the cover of May’s Cleo magazine (Aussie edition). “Women’s” magazines, dear God. Do I really need to foresee my future on a guy’s bum? What is my promised “bright” future doing plastered on a guy’s bum where the sun don’t shine? Excuse me dude; get off your ass; that’s my future you’re sitting on! SCARILY ACCURATE METHODS THAT WILL UNLOCK YOUR DESTINY - THE FRUIT SOMEONE’S BUTT MOST RESEMBLES CAN REVEAL THEIR TRUE SELF! Oh, you have got to be kidding me with this scarily inane article. The only thing this article probably unlocked is the mental hospital cell of the fruitcake that wrote it. And if your butt reveals your true self, then it’s probably because you’re an ass. But alas, I did briefly look in the mirror to see what fruit my booty resembled and I couldn’t figure it out. The only fruit I had in my fridge to compare my butt to were strawberries and it isn’t on the article’s list of fruity butt shapes. So I ate the strawberries since it wasn’t going to tell me anything about my true self except for the fact that I really like strawberries……. Something I could’ve told you myself if you had only bothered to ask instead of just looking at my bum.

Along with the usual fashion and beauty features, other articles in this month’s Cleo include: “THE BITCH IS BACK”, “I BLEW $80,000 ON MY WEDDING…THEN WE SPLIT UP”, “C’MON ADMIT IT – YOU’VE THOUGHT ABOUT SLEEPING WITH A WOMAN”, “I HAD LIPO IN MY LUNCH HOUR!”, “GUYS, DO YOU JUDGE A GIRL BY WHAT SHE WEARS?” and “ONE NIGHT STANDS – WHAT HE’LL REALLY THINK OF YOU”.

Dear Cleo (and other “women’s” magazines), Instead of displaying a whole array of skinny jeans for this month’s fashion feature, why not be way fashion forward and feature fat genes. And if you’re going to feature the articles you do: “I STABBED THE BITCH IN THE BACK” “I BLEW $80,000 ON MY WEDDING..THEN I SPLIT THE BASTARD’S HEAD OPEN”, “C’MON ADMIT IT – THEY SAY YOU’RE A MAN-HATING LESBIAN FEMINIST BUT YOU’VE THOUGHT ABOUT SLEEPING WITH A MAN”, “I ACTUALLY ATE LUNCH IN MY LUNCH HOUR”, and “ONE NIGHT STANDS – WHAT HE’LL REALLY THINK, OH WHO CARES WHAT WHAT’S HIS NAME REALLY THINKS?” Sounds like a stupid idea? Wow, you don’t say…

Yeah, yeah, I’m fully aware that Cleo and its peers never made any promises about being an Academic Journal of Very Academic Stuff with Lots of Clever Things That Clever People Only Pretend to Get. But still, can’t one have one’s cake and eat one’s veggies too? The excuse is that they’re only giving their public what it wants, that the articles they publish are what interests most women. Yeah, alright, shoes, clothes, a little celebrity dish, a silly quiz – they’re great. Who wants their toilet reading to feel like a lecture from Germaine Greer anyhow? But if Playboy and Penthouse, publications essentially devoted to supplying men with pictures of women with their tits out can have articles that don’t surpass the maximum level on the stupidity meter, then I don’t see how these self-proclaimed “women’s” magazines can’t. And if you think men’s magazines are doing a bad job with their portrayal and treatment of women – “women’s” magazines, well – tell me, really, what is the point of asking Sienna Miller if she has “fat days” or Kirsten Dunst about what she thinks of Britney (instead of anything they’ve done or achieved) unless it’s to propagate and amplify the notion that females do nothing but look pretty and bitch about other people. Which we do, every once in a while. But we also have day jobs and hobbies and interests that extend far beyond that and sometimes, we’re bloody good at it.

Posted by Maryam at 3:39 PM | Permalink |