Heavy Metal Lovers


A rolling stone gathers no moss the only time I was good at something all it took was four wheels
And you could be a Genius I guess the wheels gives it away this isn’t about bad boy bands heavy
That broke many a levees of the mind but it is inextricably wound together with music and how apropos
To write about it today when the music of all heaven was called to silence and then a whole lot of
Shaking began When **** Clark walked through the gate don’t waist it just taste it it’s all right to be
Burly and squirrely “Get lost in the rock and roll” amp it up Bob Seeger everything comes with rules
There was time before Elvis but it still applied cool cats had one command be cool don’t break the
Jackson rule of Cool Square is not the fit you want to project oh the sixties the place the strip in
Hollywood the car an Austin Healy convertible if they even had hard tops which I doubt reading Michael
Canes auto biography he spoke of him being there I didn’t see him but he got swallowed up by the
Great beast it flowed out of those clubs into the street the sidewalks full of hot babes and cool dudes
We were so low it was like you were on the payment it even got into the act there was a raw energy
That electrified every ounce of your being it rose out of the payment and cruised those Hollywood
Streets plus every street in America felt its heat and heard it s roar red cherry glass pack mufflers
Then songs took up the anthem I had fun fun until my daddy took my T bird away shutem down GTO Jan
and Dean’s Drag City, Dead Man’s Curve, The little old lady from Pasadena and many more but the king
of cars that held the title was held by no other than the Cobra we were a couple of brazen GIs with a
Seventy two hour pass we met the enemy at a stop light the Austin Healy sounded so throaty in that
Southern California night air and we lived the song do you know the way to San Jose LA isn’t nothing but
A bunch of old freeways we would roar up the entrance to the ten the Malibu highway the Five to Dego
The 710 to long beach and the Queen Mary this southern California kid from Compton a suburb of LA
Was giving me the grand tour Disney and Knox berry later in the day the big sad Walt had just died
And then there was this monster next to us it was towering before we felt so continental a slight British
Smugness as we drove this fine European sports car but when the lion roars your purring becomes a
Little puckish it was bulging in comparison we were like a joke your mother won’t let you have a real car
What did they paint the light red how many shades of red did we turn as we set in this shadow of green
Paint and death for any idiot that tossed out a challenge when he took off it was like our car was
Wearing a smug British suit and the force he generated when he accelerated tore every stitch off down
To just underwear praying the smog would quickly envelop us the rest of the way didn’t happen so you
Do what anyone does you choose the less of two evils and rattle on about how they put Porches engines
Into VW bugs like who cares why is one of those suckers behind us well they are cool and this is about
Cool cars you could always tell them by the tail pipe instead of a round rifle barrel it had a wide round
Funnel at the end like the old blunder bust guns of the colonists then an era and times needs a voice
The male was a mix of Lou Rawls and Berry white doing the singing but also any time introduction was
Needed Aretha took care of the female side Jimmy Hendrix took care of the instrument on his
Supernatural guitar Hugh Masicali African Jazz drummer follow the beat every teen Idol was making
The girls swoon then you add in the mix the American auto chrome and steel dreams see the heat rising
Flashes that were blurs running wide open filled with teens and thrill filled screams and then there was
The exit and the entrance there was a royal distinction that rubbed off on its occupants the cool look
And clothes and hair for both sexes dreamy stars in all places not just the bright lights of movie magic
For girls it was they rode well but if they took the wheel this sealed the deal how can you add curves to
Curves they had the saying your blowing my mind man it in toned them as perfect inter changeable the
Womanly softness the interior the lines outside truly defined you are in the presence of qualities that
Run deeper than just the surface you see so much more how blessed when both car and women
Continually amaze you think you discovered everything oh foolish one you just stepped into another
Power zone that was built in at creation somehow the car was somewhat accidental but the woman’s
Was on purpose cheating would cease to a great extent if the truth was only known you got more
Excitement than you will ever know and for the man let him step out rise to his full height there is
Something sweeping and grand about it how could it be any different muscle and brawn distinction
Used as in art subtle but by being so it is so telling appeal runs no stronger and it effects effortlessly
Adds maximum benefit and joy girls find it unmercifully enjoyable packaged like fine wine in a wooden
Box with straw in other words perfected delivery of romance simply a soothe that washes over you
With lasting ramification the golden straw has glistening particles as well as star dust that make other
World tastefulness abide in two lives equally shared so drive into the setting sun in your own heavy
Metal dream that we love so well

In 1983, the Fashion Design Council burst on to the Melbourne scene like a Liverpool kiss to the mainstream fashion industry. Inspired by punk's DIY aesthetic and armed with an audaciously grandiose title, an earnest manifesto and a grant from the Victorian government, FDC founders Robert Buckingham, Kate Durham and Robert Pearce were determined to showcase the burgeoning Melbourne design scene in all its outrageous glory.

"People resented hearing about Karl Lagerfeld," says Durham. "Our movement was against the mainstream and the way Australians and magazines like Vogue treated Australian designers."

Over its 10-year lifespan, the FDC launched such emerging designers as Jenny Bannister, Christopher Graf and Martin Grant. But what was perhaps most exciting was the FDC's ecumenical approach. Architects, filmmakers, artists and musicians all partied together at runway shows held in nightclubs.

"It was an inventive time when people came together and made people notice fashion," says Durham.

Among the creative congregation, Durham remembers artist Rosslynd Piggott, who constructed dresses of strange boats with children in them and filmmaker Philip Brophy, who used "naff" Butterick dress patterns. Elsewhere, an engineer made a pop-riveted ball dress out of sheet metal. The crossover between music, art, graphic design and film extended to architects such as Biltmoderne (an early incarnation of celebrated architects Wood Marsh) who designed the FDC's favourite runway and watering hole, Inflation nightclub.

"Clothing was confronting," says Durham. "It was brash and tribe-oriented. It was quite good if you weren't good-looking. People liked the idea that this or that clothing style was going to win you friends."

Today, however, even Karl Lagerfeld has a punk collection. To complicate matters, "fast fashion" appropriates the avant-garde at impossibly low prices. The digital era too has caused the fashion world to splinter and bifurcate. What's a young contemporary designer to do?

"The physical collective is no longer that important," says Robyn Healy, co-curator of the exhibition High Risk Dressing/Critical Fashion, which uses the FDC as a lens to view the current fashion landscape. "These are designers who are highly networked through social media who put their work up on websites."

Fashion designers still use music, film and architecture, but in different ways. Where FDC members might document its runway shows with video, studios such as Pageant use video as the runway show and post them online. Social media is perhaps the big disrupter. Where FDC designers might collaborate with architects, today it's webdesigners.

"Space has changed," says Healy. "Web designers might be the equivalent of the architect today. It's a different use of space."

As grandiose as the FDC, yet perhaps even more ambitious in scope, is contemporary designer Matthew Linde's online store *** gallery, Centre for Style. Like the FDC, it offers space for "artists who aren't at all designers per-se, but they're dealing with a borrowed language from fashion", Linde told i-D magazine.

"It's an extraordinary juggernaut across the world with a huge amount of Instagram followers," says co-curator Fleur Watson. "[Linde] has created a brand that uses social media in an interesting avant-garde way."

Yet unlike their often untrained FDC counterparts, these designers are perhaps the first generation of PhD designers, notes Watson. "Robert Pearce had a belief in culture changing the world. That's what these new designers are reflecting on in their research, their position in the fashion world and how do they change the way fashion works?"

While it's also true that new technologies offer exciting possibilities in embedded fabrics and experimentation with 3D printing, fast fashion has created certain expectations.

As Cassandra Wheat of the Chorus fashion label laments: "It's just hard for people to understand the complexity and the value that goes into production without being really exposed to it. They think they should have a T-shirt for cheaper than their sandwich."

During the course of the exhibition Chorus will produce its monthly collection from one of the newly designed spaces within the gallery. The exhibition's curators have commissioned three contemporary architects who, like its '80s counterparts, work across the arts, to interpret FDC-inspired spaces. Matthew Bird's Inflation-influenced bar acts as a meeting place for the exhibition's forums and discussions on the contemporary state of fashion. Sibling architects abstracts the retail space, while Wowowa's office design resembles a fishbowl. For Watson, the exposed shopfront/office has as much front as Myer's. Its architecture suggests the type of brazen confidence every generation of fashion design needs. Says Watson: "Fake it till you make it."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2017

Snow-day 1959

Monday, 6:00AM clock radio trips,
And WTRY Sounds off one of those top 40 hits.
I half hear the School Closings for Monday 12/12,
Sitting straight up in bed.....Was that Greenport Elementary do tell?

"Here are those school closings one more time kiddies"........
"Hudson HS Closed".... Oh Please God let me hear my city.
"Greenport Elementary...Closed" my Hands Raised Victorious..
I think I can hear Mrs Healy's entire 3rd grade class celebrating gloriously!

Just as I settle in for an uninterrupted, relaxing snow day in my room,
I hear my Mom yell, "young man come get this dust mop and broom"
"Oh snap"! "what shall I do with these dearest mother" I inquire
"Clean that pig sty you call a bedroom or your gonna feel some hellfire!"

Seeing that there we were only 10 days before Christmas
I decide Its to my advantage not to put up a fuss.
So clean I do.....pulling dust bunnies and underwear from beneath my bed
A miss matched sock and a couple bugs that were dead.

And to my surprise I find that fake dog **** I been looking for,
Time for a stealth mission to Mom's special bedroom behind that closed door.
Doing my best army crawl I make my way to Ma's special place
And put that rubbery dog **** on that bedspread made of lace.

"Hey Ma come quick the dog crapped on your lacy bedspread"!
I don't think Ma hit one step climbing those stairs she was seein' red!
And with a gasp she began to rub that dogs nose in the mess,
I'm like Mom it's just fake dog **** relax and don't stress"!

hi dudes this briano alliano up here on saturn to welcome richie benaud and i can guarantee

the cosmos is blessed to have a great man, and here is richie singing come on aussie come on

hi everyone, i say hello to saturn

you see lillee pounded down like a machine

taylor was the best captain you’ll ever seen

brett lee got a hat trick, merv, kim and phil hughes were pretty rad yeah

till phil hughes died last year oh yeah

thommo is pounding like another machine

as a bowler he was very fast and mean

you see he will pick up wickets, while the outfielders clearing pickets

and the chappell eyes, have got their eyes on the green

then pascoe is making divvits in the green

border ordered his players around like noone you’ve ever seen

and rod marsh took some catches like healy and haddin, to win those matches

and i remember joel garner and micheal holding cleaned us out, oh yeseree

we still went, come on aussies come on, come on, come on aussies come on

after that small song, ritchie benaud took phil hughes on the cosmic turf, where my dad and mark jones

and tony grieg and rob douglas and stan niemic and phil hughes and many many more, and crocus’s earth body brian allan

played cricket at john knight memorial park, i made some great hook shots, it was cool, dad who had bias long legs

hit 34 runs off 45 *****, yeah and dad gave a methane smoothie to richie, saying welcome to the cosmos, and

mark jones hit 23 off 34 ***** and gave richie a new earth drink coca cola life, which is a drink which will put you

in touch with the cosmos, congratulations richie, marks my name, you will come back to earth when the cosmos is ready

to let you return and tony grieg scored 123 off 112 ***** and after that, he gave richie benaud a methane smoothie

and rob douglas got 87 off 100 *****, but rob said, good on you richie, you’ll a fine player, and tipped methane all over

richie saying, good job old pal, and stan niemic scored 123 off 123, and going at a run a ball, stan was happy, and when he finished

he poured methane all over saying welcome to the cosmos, and phil hughes scored 56 off 56 and went over to richie tippe

tipped a keg of methane on him and said thanks mate old chum old pal for those kind words and the other players together averaged at 123 off 122 *****

and richie benaud had methane smoothies all over him and at the end every player went into saturn club rings

to have a great celebration for the great richie benead with a lot of bottles and kegs of coca cola life, which will,

improve the quality of their lives on earth, and everyone was dripping with methane and might i add malcolm marshall bowled

very well as the official bowler getting 34 wickets, now malcolm marshall is matty b, on youtube, but this game was in honour

of the great richie benaud, welcomed to the cosmos and malcolm poured a bit of coca cola life on richie saying you love life, dude

and briano alliano came out and said

ritchie was the best commentator you’ll ever seen

you see i watched him on channel nine congratulate the gold and green

you see here everyone, welcome this great man

to the cosmos, he’s the happiest in the land

welcome ritchie benaud yeseree

the world will miss him, oh yeah you see

because you hosted nines coverage, of the cricket, well done mate

now what will buddha do with you

come on aussies come on come on, come on aussies come on

well done, ritchie benaud, WELCOME

see you next time, this was a great cosmic cricket match, dudes

now the saturn club rings was filled with methane, PARTY ON, to next life, ritchie

someday i hope i can find a blank concrete wall on the side of an abandoned strip
  of road like yellow hyphenated tape
                      perforated straight down the middle: you, me, a picnic basket in our cherry red convertible with
    a can of graffiti staining the tips of my fingers black,
                 brazen instrument of destruction   spraying across the
obscenely grandiose texts that paint the insides of our minds, excerpts from howl, anything from tartt, lyrical, aesthetic, so above our heads like the smoke on your lips oh
                    the road trip is the one line track to solve all our miseries;
somewhere we can just stretch our arms out to touch the wind, in and over and all the way through,     somewhere we can  stretch our heads back to feel the sun drip down,  basking,      soaking, heating  and enveloping          glorious warmth,
          linearity mocking abstraction, with all the semicolons misplaced, all the words inverted, all the secrets unkept and blurted beneath the rustle of tall southern grasses and the smell of burning wood and light sage and the dark loveless sky, cold and everywhere
  but we will save up swaths of the unloving night, tuck them in the folds of your flannel and the creases of your skin
       all the while listening to something sad like matt healy on the turntable
   tinny and distorted running out of our car speakers, scrambling for purchase on the cheap leather seats up and over and through

someday i want to keep a bag full of midnight dances and music          
                    softly escaping on the sorrows in our hearts and the little whims we pray so much on
     with a toothbrush and a change of clothes, watching as the glassy light falls, a flag on the ground, a foot pressed into it, digging past our lives, digging into the new america, paradise for pageant runners and paisley princes
         in the garden, and i have not found so
              in paradise we are found, and here we stand, two broken things next to each other. horror story twins, you the white, i the dark, running the whole house down. we leave with abandon. we live with abandon. whole, and then suddenly, inextricably, returned.

a hen
a doe
a tree
a catharsis
...
a Shay Healy
...
...
a knee
Ah Chew!

absolutely,
completely,
utterly
free.
no such thing.
but i can pretend,
i can pretend to not care
and can take out my hair,
and dance like a drunken matt healy onstage,
i can scream like janis joplin,
i can **** those guitar solos like hendrix or prince,
i don’t even play guitar, but i can pretend.
i can blast the music that makes my heart tight,
that makes my skin too tight,
that makes my body a limitation to my mind
and my feeling.
i need a place where i cannot be contained.
i need a place where i can be
absolutely,
completely,
utterly
free.
no such thing.

Novel coronavirus.
Travelers in motion.
Spewing the virus.

One fervent hope
in danger of being dashed.
Undocumented carriers.
86% of all infections.
These people are the major drivers.
The ones who facilitated the spread.

Unseen transmission.
Unseen spread.
Much harder to stomp.

The longer the period of silent viral shedding,
the more difficult it is to control the outbreak.

Containment is nearly not possible.

Typically Grev, out there
                        on the hills false alarming
                         a strike which echoed all
                             across the the plain.

                      Horseshoe valley road, sure
                    the luck is in me he'd be telling
                     you and the bonnet up at the
                       wrong end of his Dauphine.

                         Healy's Comet is what we
                       took to calling it, t'was such
                    a rare sight in Darwin, the A.A.
                     would never come out to fix it.

                         Owens Lake went on the
                          wagon, dry as a bone, a
                        dust bowl,  'mais pas Grev';
                     he ended up in the drink tank!

it's one thing to smile, using your lips?
but you can't really
laugh-out-loud...
              if your eyes aren't smiling...
i.e. it's one thing reading a style magazine
article about the 1975's
               matt healy...
and then not listening to in extremo's
song vor vollen schüsseln
as a fashonista might down a kale shake,
or eat an avocado on toast...
you sure you drizzled that oddity with
some lemon juice?
     seriously...
the english have become as "eccentric"
(plain wrong, as the russians say) as the scots...
what with avocado on toast,
    and a deep-friend mars bar / slice of pizza...
                                 (of the scots);
i still don't know if the word fad is
an acronym or a noun...
          i'd still rather eat raw herrings than
***. sushi.
        i hope i have some sort of inclusive
sense-of-humour, that someone might share
with me;
well, eccentric has a twin... its name is... bonkers,
off your rickety-rickety;
tossing marbles, into a hole in a ground,
like the polish kids did, after the closure of communism...
that's what we used to do...
   dig a hole, prescribe ourselves a distance of,
say, five metres, and then throw marble ***** into
the hole...
                  but **** me... nothing more
fun than playing hide & seek;
what sort of childhood do you have now? eh?
about as ****** as a ready-meal from a supermarket.
that ******* matra... quick! quick!
    and then what?
                               read a book? t.v.?
there's a great joke concerning the acronym t.v.,
   it's p.c.        plato's cave...
          that's what watching television equates itself to;
sure, a personal computer,
   but an impersonal presence, using it;
but there, simply is, a way of extracting from blank
pixel canvases, some sort of self-authority, that bypasses
           any literary core of authority!
  that has existed, and has been ridiculed by this medium...
  we're not here to make monetary gains...
     we're here to exhale a breath of our thoughts...
we're bypassing all concepts of authority that existed
in the 20th century...
                     publishing boundaries, what boundaries...
what? you're going to suddenly become finnicky
   concerning your take of a literary palette?
             oh... oyster not good enough... you need a lobster?

Typically Grev, out there
                        on the hills false alarming
                         a strike which echoed all
                             across the the plain.

                      Horseshoe valley road, sure
                    the luck is in me he'd be telling
                     you and the bonnet up at the
                       wrong end of his Dauphine.

                       Healy's Comet is what we
                       took to calling it, t'was such
                    a rare sight in Darwin, the A.A.
                     would never come out to fix it.

                         Owens Lake went on the
                          wagon, dry as a bone, a
                        dust bowl,  'mais pas Grev';
                     he ended up in the drink tank!

You're probably right (officially) concerning "Ted Healy & 'HIS' Three Stooges" as opposed to 'THE,'  as Healy was a dipsomaniacal egotist. As far as the public goes I've heard many refer to them as I've listed them. Of course there is no Beatles' White Album, by name, though I've heard McCartney refer to it as such. The album is: "The Beatles." Kenneth Anger: a charlatan, a pervert, a no-talent...even worse, & more so, than John Waters, if that's possible. — Theses days one may just as easily substitute Kenyan Obama for ****** and the dead bodies of  W.W.II-era Europeans for the dead bodies of today's Arabs & Middle Easterners. What's a "world leader" as opposed to a "leader"? "Dodging the Towers" has been incorporated into the Firemen's Training Manual. [“Nothing here but the present,/Nothing behind but the past,/Nothing ahead but the future,/My gosh, how long will it last?” — Unknown]

Gone are the days of bluesy metaphors
Of rocking and rolling
Of the opening of doors
Gone are those days of Jazz and ****
Of the *** Pistols, of Johnny and Sid
And that vicious junk
Gone too the days of Healy and Cohen
Along with Hank in the backseat and the itch of morphine
Gone along  the one who loved the Alien
Martin and Cooke, Elvin and Elvis now free
Topac and Biggy and The Right to Party
I had a look and listen, I know the many I'm missing
Gone are the days of Alterative and Grunge and the Garage Band
Gone are Cobain with Leadbelly's "In the pines refrain"
Soon are gone the days of strings and horns
Taking their place are keyboard tickled by Unicorns