Speaking of diaries

For anyone who was a serious angst-meister in their late teens, now is the chance to get published! The cringe book started as a reading night in New York, and is now an online project requesting scans of old diary pages. The test of whether your material is worthy of the book: "when you read it to yourself, do you physically cringe?".

And Stu, yes, I am also one of those oldies occasionally seen at gigs with earplugs*, but I wear the skin toned gel ones, with my hair down because I am still a bit self-conscious that my rock star image may be tainted. I remember seeing people 10 years ago with the fluoro yellow ones and knew that they were doing the right thing but still thinking "god they look terrible". More fool me. A family friend of mine with tinnitus recently got some kind of treatment that helps your brain filter out the noise, it involves playing certain frequency sounds to yourself for months. Apparently it works. Cost: $3,000. Shit.

* but more often at home with a book, no tv, no music and the windows shut.

Check it out

Hows this sexy new template? Displaying a rate streak of OCD, I've labeled the last few months worth of posts, for your pleasure. Although now I'm worried I'm going to drive myself to think inside one of those labels for all new posts. Ah the tension of a mind that loves order and categories yet also craves the off-beat, the whimsical and the passionate. Pisces, eh?

This week I've picked up the weighty tome sent to Biz by his folks, Michael Palin's Diaries from 1969-1979 (The Python Years)*. I'm quite enjoying his thoughtful, descriptive and sometimes insightful musings on "what fills his days". When all strung together (and heavily edited) nearly 30 years down the track, it make a compelling narrative. Almost inspires one to keep a real true diary, rather than a motley collection of ramblings and links to the Sydney Morning Herald. Although maybe if I keep up with the technology and keep the page nicely archived, there will be a nice juicy publishing deal in it. In 2030.

*Nb, Betty Sue the Tariq Ali/John Ronson essay is quietly forming - one of these days it will make it onto booklub

Cheer up

By the way, any Sydney ladies who read this and are interested in being a Radical cheerleader, we are currently trying to get our shit together to have a 2007 kick off meeting. It will involve beers and no scary performing in front of people you don't know, and hopefully a few targets to cheer at in a big old election year. I personally see it as a duty to don a stupid outfit if it helps brighten people's day when they get up and get out on the streets to try to communicate with our mean and darkhearted government. Get on the "GP-based list" or drop a line in comments.

Edit: Sydney-based fellas too, please! I'm dying to see some hairy legs in those improvised cheering costumes.