Belvedere Jehosophat - Tuesday, April 29, 2003 - 16:34:02
The state of being quarantined can be disheartening; there always exists the fear that they know something that they're not telling you. It can be as equally traumatizing to those who resisted ex-patriation as to those who are just now, upon returning to their homeland, finding themselves effectively cut off from the sweet comforts of home.
Any attempt to isolate the virus isolates the person. How does one combat this situation? In the literary world a journalist would attempt to escape and an unlettered man would attempt to write a book. Unfortunately, that world exists only in the existentialist mind.
Read the rest of Trust Your Mechanic
Ethan Switch - Tuesday, April 29, 2003 - 08:35:52
In broadcast journalism, the power of the metaphor is strengthened if and when it mutates into the visual breed. With the amount of stock footage available to the evening news programs one metaphor will invariably find itself stretched over into other items.
One recent highlight was that of the presentation of the report of a convicted rapist sent to fourteen years gaol. Identified only as 'A.N.' a camera was fixed onto his blurred image as he ran from the Downing Centre Court in Sydney. As he made his way down to the underground train station the reporter recounted some of the incidents that led to his conviction. One such account involved that of a girl hounded on a train who, on fighting back, a knife was put up against her throat and the leader demanded sex. Fortunately for her, she managed to escape at the next station.
Read the rest of Into the Ground like a Salt Pellet
Ethan Switch - Friday, April 25, 2003 - 10:57:44
Double-faced men of the outer city sprawls walk amongst the plebs of urbania. Moulding and masking the scent of originality these men choose to co-exist in this world using the existence of another. Waiting for the other to crawl their way up from the obscure depths of poverty and free listings in the phone directory, they pounce at a time of high glee and popularity. Working beyond an improvement on their own lives never comes into the fore, the mere hint of which leaves them a shattered compost of dry twigs and loose pollen.
The originals have flocked to the greened and yellowed greens of the West Indies. Their poor facially structured counterparts have broken the shackles of double vision and now strut their substandard impurities across the pavements. To the uninformed and less aroused the images of which have caused a slight concern and possible hallucinations given that the cross networking odours have made breathing in that much harder.
Read the rest of Caribbean Doppelganger Lost in Gilchrist
Ethan Switch - Tuesday, April 22, 2003 - 08:03:12
Shivering and shaking, the natural state of a junkie going on hours, even minutes without a hit. Paranoia and desperation, keys to the kingdom of madness and eternal scratching. The scratching is endless. That and the cold. Pay no mind to the cold. The cold bears itself.
Every now and then a simple advertisement pops up to hold onto a corner of a publication such as a free street mag or the columned section of a newspaper. In these little calls for the wild, they offer the small and enticing sum of a mere $40—or thereabouts—in exchange for the thoughts and reactions of those with a finer eye for veins than rookie med students.
Read the rest of Narcotics Shootin' and Scorin' off of Junkies
Belvedere Jehosophat - Thursday, April 17, 2003 - 14:03:34
Insidious shenanigans—possibly treasonous, certainly seditious—were sounded by a loud telephone on a train between Riverwood and Kingsgrove today. The scene had been set; the wheels were in motion.
The search for witnesses to observe what was going down revealed only a nearby passenger reading a well-thumbed copy of Dylan Thomas’s Selected Poems, some sporadic types of an unsavoury nature and a desire for a more efficient railway system.
Read the rest of The Cap-À-Pie Cabal: Treachery On Wax Streets
Alex Yamakazi - Thursday, April 17, 2003 - 00:49:20
Since we are on a state rail thread here I have another theory to offer. It seems that whenever a tiny bit of water falls from the sky i.e. RAIN, the entire State Rail transportation "system" falls apart. After much thought I have concluded that this is because the state transit system is actually under the control of the Wicked Witch of the West. Due to her magical influence, the appearance of rain causes an "I'm MEEEEEEEEEELLLLTING" response in the transit system spawning a plague of "City Rail apologises for any inconvenience caused" messages spoken in the witch's spookily dulcet tones. (note they do not apologise for ANGUISH which I think would be a TAD more accurate!!!)
This also explains the lack of communication skills of State Rail employees. The Witch is having problems teaching her shaved flying monkeys english.
Read the rest of WW of W Heads up State Rail!!
Ethan Switch - Wednesday, April 16, 2003 - 05:23:15
Security on CityRail trains is nothing and nowhere to be seen at the best of times. These so-called guards of safety have been known to get upset when commuters quite audibly yell into their ears disrupting them from an evening to midnight slumber on the seats.
One of the more basic duties includes the continual traversing and inspection of carriages, start to end in five minutes or less. Yet despite this, rookie guards have been held back by the older generation who believe that "trouble sorts itself out."
Read the rest of Paging The Red Eyed Medics of Strife
Belvedere Jehosophat - Friday, April 11, 2003 - 15:31:17
It’s becoming more and more apparent that the Millennium trains are not, especially in this forced metaphor, the promised land of the transport system.
Five out of the thirteen Millennium trains have suffered power problems, the symptoms of which include train drivers getting locked in their compartments.
Read the rest of "something something Sir Munkee something something."
Ethan Switch - Thursday, April 10, 2003 - 11:00:01
Poker machines in club and gaming lounges seem that ever more enticing when the air ducts are surreptitiously wafting aromas reminiscent of hugs and home. It's the main reason the addicted and problem gamblers come back day after day for more punishment.
This technique is something a new breed of religious zealots have yet to master. These recruiters—found with a disturbing frequency on train station platforms—dispense odd smelling pamphlets and brochures on the benefits of turning to a higher being in times of crisis. Accompanying the leaflets is an even funkier odour attached on to the clothes and garments of those distributing the throwaways.
Read the rest of Smelling Salts of Salvation in Scripture
Ethan Switch - Tuesday, April 8, 2003 - 11:16:17
From the evidence of late a new underground—and rather poorly funded—cult has recently lost two new surrogates, Ronda and Leea. The supposed leader, Scott Barrett, has taken to posting notices on poles near and around public transport depots and stations.
Reflecting life in the cult, each one of the posters are made to look both unique and unassuming. Further to this, the message is scrawled, rather neatly, and not by that of the technological eye provided in the form of photocopiers.
Read the rest of The New Kind of Family Reunion
Ethan Switch - Thursday, April 3, 2003 - 12:21:21
In Australia, the Environmental Operations Act of 1997 forbids the dispersal of promotional material in such places as a library. The offence is felt more when the pages of the books have been targeted and play host to the obscene material. What kind of material? Of late there have been a spate of pamphlets promoting of all things, racism. It's feared that the patrons of targeted municipal libraries are easy to brainwash into thinking that such material is instructional and more than likely to act out on the guides.
In Sydney the Books Not Bombs rally went ahead despite the lack of permits for protesting. The feat of calling such a disorganized gathering of hot and light headed individuals a protest rally is astounding. Loud, unruly and all posing for the eyes of the camera, the scenes are not unlike that of the modern day libraries. All perhaps for the willful posing for the cameras, these local institutions that were once known as places of serenity and knowledge are being overtaken day by day by communities that choose to bring their parks indoors. The worst part about this all is that the librarians look the other way when acts of disturbing the peace occur.
Read the rest of Suicide Notes From Strangers
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