15 Step

20 odd shows. 26 nights. 18 odd gigs. 20 good people. Too many litres. Spell check tells me I've spelt litre wrong. I know when I'm right. Except for when I'm wrong in which case I think I'm right until I realise I'm wrong. Stupid American spell check.

I can say that because I am an Australian/American, unlike one comedian I saw at the Hifi who thought that because he lived there once for a year he thinks it's okay for the first thing to leave his mouth when he came out on stage to be "I hate Americans. Who here hates Americans?" to which a gaggle of ignorant morons reply with woots and yeahs. It would be a completely different story if he came out and said "I hate Jews. Who here hates Jews?" I'm not saying that Jews have it sweet but to come out on stage and the first thing that you expound to the audience is "I hate Americans" says to me that you have some mighty fine blinders on. After all, whether you like it or not people we are America Lite. The fact that I sit here typing this with a Krispy Kreme doughnut by my side only serves to reinforce my statement. It's not as though by saying this I am advocating the outrageous violations to both basic Human rights and decency that the United States has and will commit. All I am saying is that in 100 years people will look back with mouths a gasp and fists clenched at the US and we will be right there beside it. This notion that Australians are somewhat better, holier, less to blame than our American counterparts is true only in our fiction loving minds. We followed the President like we followed the Queen into Gallipoli and for that ladies and gentlemen we can only blame ourselves and those bodies which represent us. It is a sad fact that Internationally, Australians are becoming social pariahs just as much as our annoying soya mocha latte decaff with a twist Yankee brothers and sisters. But no. It's so much easier to hate than to acknowledge that we are becoming more and more similar ever day and try to make a change from there. But it's so much easier.

When it boils down to it, it's just plain racist. It's just us and them. Which is awesome. It makes me proud to be Human. If you're not part of the problem you're part of the bigger nastier all encompassing problem that will ensure the ultimate destruction of us all. "I'm not racist. I love black people. But I fucken' hate Americans"

One more night. 3 more shows. 20 good people. Too many litres.
A long way to go.

Coffee and Cigarettes

There isn't much time as I must go and flyer in twenty minutes. The air is warm and wet, like when you put a wet towel over your head and lie in the sun by the pool for too long. Melbourne was supposed to be cold. I didn't buy an expensive jacket just to carry it around with me all the time dammit.

In 2006 I came here. I was at The Trades Hall one night. Cold night. We were all sitting at a long bench table, drinking $4.00 pints of Mountain Goat. There were multiple jazz cigarettes being passed around. A ragtime band played and a gorgeous woman dancing on our table. I remember Xavier, Horabin and I looking at eachother. Awesome. That was a moment. A point. We felt like the lords of our creation.

In 2008 I have had many more of those moments and I haven't even been here a week. The festival is magic. There is no way else to put it. In my previous post I wrote about a perfect moment. The conditions being just right for that moment to exist. Here the conditions are ripe.

A man could live in a place like this. A man could be happy with his lot no matter how large or small.

I have ten minutes left.

I have another week and a half here in the place of Melbourne. I have to admit that at the rate I am going that prospect does exhaust me somewhat. But, there are more exciting things coming. More shows to see. More places to go. Trades Hall awaits. Improv awaits. Krispy Kreme awaits.
I have eight minutes left. But by the time I proof read, pack up and walk down the the Town Hall it will be time to get to work. The conditions are ripe. The Lords are waiting.