london volume 1: Jetlag

The first of at least a few sporadic updates on my travels. Im in Vauxhall at Neils place, after wandering around London for the last 2 days trying to tell myself that jetlag was an urban myth.
Its not an urban myth, it makes you a space cake and all the senses are dulled and sharpened. Its like being super tired but more disorientated and incapable of thought.
The flight was a bit hellish. My layover after 14 hours in Abu Dubai was not a good idea. It was 31 degrees at 1am and i landed with a trash n treasure hoodie with 2 giant pictures of a cat holding a machine gun and a backpack full of queerzines. Normally Im really good at killing time, but this time, time was killing me.
The united Arab Emirates was on a super high warning of terror (or terror warning, whatever). They were frisking old English hippes as we got onto the plane for the final leg. The plane was full of very non-asleep kids. This was at 7am-ish Sydneytime after my flight left Syd at 3pm. The sun started to come up, and i think the plane was racing it. I was so delerious by then, and need something/someone to lean on. Asile seat=bad idea. The touchscreen on the back of the seat in front was good, but the movies had been censored. There was a camera feed from the nose of the plane so you could watch the plane land. Awesome...unless you were a bad flyer I guess. The food was all halal, so no bacon. It was weird, a meal every 3 hours. Airline food is always in its own category. I ate things I couldnt identify...
So I finally landed in Heathrow at 7.30am and it took an hour + to get through passport control. There were 12 agents dealing with 1200 or so people. The one I got was cute but a hard edged narky dude. 'What are you going to do here' 'Show me your return ticket'. Oh well... I finally went to collect my bag and went through the nothing to declare gate to...nothing. There was no customs staff at all. I could have had a live calf with mad cow in my bag. So then I wandered into the tube and got a train to Brixton where I met up with Rob. We had many coffees and caught up, then a few pints. I saw a bobby and wanted to do the da-da-duh (theme music from the Bill) and say you're nicked! but restrained myself, then went to Vauxhall where Im staying with Neil. Hes got a cute little flat and funny housemates.
By now I was pretty fucked, I mean travelling across numerous timezones, regions, for the better part of 34 hours. But Bar Wotever was on, a weekly open decks open stage night at a pub/club called Central Station (www.woteverworld.com). I met some very nice people and played shocking pool with Neil and Rob. But when I saw the band setting up I knew I had to go. We got a double-decker red bus back to Vauxhall and I crashed.
Next morning/afternoon I went looking for a powerpoint adaptor and an internet cafe and stumbled around Soho and Oxford St for a while. My phone was dead and I was realising how much jetlag can do to you. Seeing the sun come up twice in 4 hours will fuck up your reality I guess. So I went browsing and had a pint at the Admiral Duncan on Old Compton St (Oxford St with personality). I saw some amazing graffiti and cool Banksy merch, but restrained myself.
Tonight Im off too see Peaches DJ at a silent disco and some queercore fundraiser at a squat somewhere in uh, somewhere. Tomorrow theres some Morrissey festival...Presets in a week or so.
But now Im going to cook a pie for Neils house and get some sun. Its sunny until 9.30pm.
Freaky country hey?
Lotsa love,
Chris

Right now, I want life to be a perfect mix of these moments...

Old stories are sometimes the best...

Some of the stuff Ive published in my zine in years past honestly make me cringe. But some bits of Coughing Up Legomen I feel are worth chucking out there. A short hyper, potted history of Reclaim The Street parties/festivals in Sydney...
To be continued, sometime soon, along with articles from CUL #20...

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.

Coughing Up Legomen #20: Done, now the party

So as some of you may know, Ive been working hard on a new zine for months now. It was finished on Sunday night, finally. Ive gotten it offset printed for slightly better quality, and its finally done, complete with screenprinted covers and a patch and sticker with each one. First edition of 300. Done. Its a large format with an extensive interview with Seymour Butz about Klub kooky and playing at kens at Kensington, the legendary gay sauna. An interview with Mashy P about the free party scene in Sydney as well as writing about sharehousing, books, the gay scene DIY markets, warehouse living, HighanDry Festival and a whole bunch of other stuff.
So Im launching it at the Abercrombie Hotel on Saturday night with a range of my favorite DJs and friends performing. Seymour Butz and Mashy P, Zeitgeist, Franco, Mukole, The BFG, Deep Cycle, Munted Monkey and myself will be playing tunes. Live bands Lunar Module and The Gruntled will be shaking the foundations in the much loved beer garden. Justin Shoulder, Faggot Rooster and Celia Curtis will be doing their performing magic during the course of the night. Great shows and music, friendly people and zines will be finally available on the night for sale. I wont be selling friendly people on the night though...
Finally... 8pm-3am, ten bucks entry (we want to pay all these wonderful people). Whoever is reading this, please come and say high.
A variety of zine articles to be uploaded here real soon.
XXX Chris

Hmmmm

I don't think anyone actually reads this. And thats Aok. Its more for me i guess. Ive tried to keep diaries but I always seem to lose them. Anyways, back to work.

Newtown DIY Markets

So i thought it was about time i wrote about my favorite little project, the DIY markets, on the last Saturday of every month. I'll be uploading an article about it from my new zine, Coughing Up Legomen #20 when it comes out. Soon...
But at last Saturdays market I mediated an argument about space at 7am and then I thought, fuck it, I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not paid anyway as a coordinator or conflict resolution person. 7am is way too early for me to deal with that stuff. No matter how many coffees I've had. So I went around all the stalls and said that there was going to be a group greeting/meeting and chat at 8.30 and in the end about 30-35 stall-holders came down for a chat about the markets, issues about space and a round of introductions.
Perhaps I'm jumping the gun. The markets were started about five years ago by three of us, Joey Nitro, Pete and myself as a platform for local art, culture and secondhand wares. Over the years word has spread about the free market and now we get about 40 stalls every month. We used to get there at 10am and have all the space we wanted, now we get there earlier and earlier and the square opposite the station is fuller and fuller every month.
Anyways the chat was great. everyone walked off talking to each other and figuring out how we could all manage the free space we've set up every month. I organise a sound system crew to come and play music and we pass the hat for them around the stalls at about 1pm and to buy ice creams for all the marketfolk.
The photos are from the wonderful Moz's website, moz.net.nz. They are two years old but they might give you a flavour of it. There are more recent photos on the way. Hurrah for free local culture! Im wearing my 'get trucked' hat that I sadly lost. A moment of silence for my lost cap please. See you at the next market.