Intro from C.U.L #20 and a few little bits

Coughing Up Legmen version 20
I’ve been getting used to the quiet life even as my record case bumps my knees under my desk. The mosquitos seem to be leaving me alone for the moment, but it hurts even to type with my very clumsily bandaged hand. Radiohead is the perfect loud quiet music. I’ve finally turned the fan off and the only sounds are the wind endlessly brushing through the trees, the quiet click of the keyboard and the somewhat perfect sounds coming from the wheelie bin.
But it has been a bit of the quiet life I guess. I’ve started cooking in the house again after months of just not bothering. I’ve been looking wistfully at the garden full of all-weather couches, carpeted ground and sturdy pot plants. They are mostly succulents, mostly because they were the only ones who made it through my period of neglect during spring party season. My bookshelves are full to the point of piling stacks of books on the top shelf, playing Jenga with literature. Which will fall first, the Identity Theft guide or a slice of classic Steven King?
My room is full. Without even considering the other stuff I could try and fit into here. Party décor, market stuff, random finds, hot glue sculptures… The last time I tried to make stuff in this room I just had to give up. You know the saying about swinging a cat?
Maybe this room reflects my life and headspace. Full. But full of things I love, photos, music books and a pretty awesome collection of shirts, the full gauntlet of printed t shirts. I have to stop writing in metaphors. It’s so easy to do that, instead of actually writing about the physical and mental here and now.
So I sit here on a quiet Wednesday night in the Church Street house, one of the last bastions of cheap rent in the heart of Newtown, in my little room that used to be a laundry, crammed full of my belongings and wonder what this year will bring. It’ll be a shame to move out of church but it feels like time. It’s been such an amazing home, not just a place to live. Energy and randomness on a radical scale.
There is such a difference between a house and a home. Three and a half years is a long time in a little house though. So many beautiful people have been through here. It’s hard to be emotional and pack your bags/milkcrates at the same time.
The cast of hundreds of friends, associates, well-wishers, co-conspirators, lovers, friends, neighbours, randoms and fellow munter pirates have never been far away either.
You all know who you are. Respect.
You have never seen five people with so much stuff live in such a small place. There is always something new in the lounge room and always a sweet crew of people dropping in.
Truly unpredictable. Thank you 262.
Here’s to the future whatever it may hold. Throwing love and respect out there…


Chris Lego
Jan-March 2008






If you want a social revolution, try learning some social skills


Such a small amount of space in my room and there’s power cords trailing everywhere like tripwires. Potential power becomes an obstacle, just like in international politics or interpersonal social dynamics. 3 X 3 X 3 metres is 27 square metres. It doesn’t feel like that much space when its all accounted for.
The carpet is damp and there are two massive twin towers of CDs stacked like plastic models just behind the screen of the laptop.
They could fall at any random movement of the desk so I must type calmly.