A night at Bar Wotever

Last night I did a spoken word performance at Bar Wotever which is a weekly Queer night at an ancient gaybar called Central Station. It was one of those things i committed to without thinking it through, then 20 minutes out from my 'slot' or whatever its called I got hell nervous.
The audience was very sweet and supportive though and I had some good friends in the crowd, including an old mate from Sydney, Jet who actually got me started performing when she put on a performance night at the old Midnight Star squatted social centre in Homebush, Sydney in 2001 0r 2002. I think that's a big reason why I did it.
So I started with a few little stories from Church Street, funny things that have happened in the last four years of me living there. Carpeting the backyard for example. Naked roof sunbathing. I am convinced that there is a book to be written from that house.
Then i did 2 pieces from my latest zine, Newsflash and what do we want? that I pieced together.
The final bit that I did was a reworked anarchist alphabet that I had written on strips of paper. I got 3 people from the audience to come up and make the shape of the letter as I went through the alphabet behind me. That was funny and cute. So as I went through each letter I fed this roll of paper out into the audience, and everyone took it to pieces at the end and kept 4 words or so each. A really sweet and amazing response.
The rest of the evening was spent on the rooftop terrace where I sold some patches and stickers and chatted with some beautiful friends, old and new, Jet, Neil, Al and Joe Pop among others. Then myself and Neil took off for Soho where we had a few quiet unnecessary beers and caught up on a giant black leather couch.
Ill figure out how to post photos here sooner or later.

London, foxes and happy tiredness

Ok, so my cut and paste techniques are not up to scratch, so I'll have to leave my tale of jetlag and getting into London for a later date. 

Last night I saw a fox on the streets of London, in Whitechapel where I'm staying with two old friends of mine. I was standing at the window at about 1am and I saw a sleek little fox emerge from the lower level of the block of flats opposite me and slowly edge its way onto the street. A fox in the middle of the city... They are land based carnivores, not like possums, mere tree dwelling omnivores, so it was an amazing thing to see. Ive also seen squirrels in Hyde Park (rats with cute tails) and a tern fly past the flat.

It made me think tonight about how I am the last person asleep and how many nights I am awake, late, just thinking,pondering,just awake. Nine times out of ten the last person asleep. Maybe I'm also the last person awake. For that reason I hate creaky floorboards and the sense of people maybe awake waiting for the next noise I make. One day I'm going to live in a treehouse i swear. Nothing but swaying trees and rustling leaves all around.

So other things that have stuck me about London... in no particular order... I drank today in the pub where one of the Kray Brothers shot another guy/gangster for calling him a fat faggot. That's one of the more extreme ways of dealing with homophobic harassment I guess. It seemed to have done the job though.  All the staff these days are skinny gay boys. Its called the Blind Beggar in White chapel. Right outside the pub is a daily market mostly run by Bangladeshi guys selling crap clothing and seemingly hundreds of mobile phones. On the outskirts is a little army of people selling bootleg copies of whatever new release movie you want, Sex in the city, the hulk, all of them. I like their initiative, but am unsure what the quality of their DVDs would be like, camcorder in the theatre or a rip off from the original digital copies. London is an enterprising city. 

Today I wandered up to the Spitafields markets by accident and walked through the antique section, past a million things that would send Aussie customs crazy, like ivory knives, fox/deer paw cheese knife handles, boar skulls, stuffed weasels and deer horns. Some of the more dodgy carnie folk I've ever seen in my life were running stalls selling the most craptacular collection of old shit I've ever seen in my life. I think theres still a line between old and antique. Some of this stuff was sadly just old, desperately old. 15 more years and it'd be collectible, but still not antique. 

So I resisted the temptation to buy a range of monkeys/monkey related kitsch (damn you Luke and your infectious monkey related obsession) and stumbled into their fashion section, which is when I realised how many fucking fashion designers were in  the average city. I think its one in every 1000 people is a fashion designer. I chatted with a woman who was just starting out at the markets, selling shirts and patches (patches, tiny one colour for 3 quid=$8 Aust dollars). By those standards I bought over about $2000 worth of stuff in a little shopping bag.

I wandered around some more and looked at a few more dozen stalls, realising that Im bored by so much of what goes on fashionwise. (Here i hold my hand to my head dramatically and look whimsically towards the sky looking for textile salvation....) That's why most of my laundry is black. Such a pomo faggot cliche non?

I turned a corner and found the art district, about 15 stalls in a row. That was interesting, especially as i am helping organise the Newtown 'Walking the street' art fair in late September in Sydney. There was much good art for sale, and if Id had money, there was one piece I would have bought and two more I would have tried to get someone else to buy. I need more upwardly mobile friends, so I can go to their places and look at the art Ive encouraged them to buy... 

Then I wandered out of there and down Brick Lane a major Bangladeshi area and weekend market spot, I came across a place with 2 pound pints and I had one and read my book. A real old school English pub... The romance was broken when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye and there was a mouse on the cushion of my booth...

That's it for today....tomorrow or later...how I learnt to love my reading glasses again, the free media infestation of London and my trip to the Tate Modern. I'm off to Birmingham tomorrow on a random mission to see an old friend....

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