James VS The Recession IV

I have spent the best part of the last month 'frumping' about in my crisp Peter Alexanders, moaning about unemployment rates and The National Deficits.

'I hate The Recession!' I said. 'I'm not going to get out of bed until a female friend comes over and tells me that I'm not ugly.'

'You don't have any female friends, James.' My better judgement said. 'You've never liked women, remember? In fact, in the back of your mind you suspect you may be one of those suppressed gays, like the military dad from American Beauty.'

'That's true! Thanks for cheering my up, Better Judgement.'

I bounded out the front door, laughing and eating chips and shouting at women as I went.

Since I started going to AWARD school, I take ideas generation very seriously. If I was going to draw blood in this fight against The Recession I would need black Artline pens and A3 bleedproof drawing pads immediately. 

I made a quick stop at the newsagent on Devonshire St, approaching the man at the counter, 'one of each please,' I said.

'One each of what?'

This was not good enough. I'm ashamed to say that, although he wasn't a woman, I physically lashed out at him. I grabbed him by the front of his sweater. 'Listen here sir,' I said. 'It is absolutely essential that I get what I need today. There will be no ink bleeding on my pad, do you hear?'

'Ah, A3 bleedproof pad for you then sir?'

'Please. And I might also take two cans of Mother. It will be like a quadruple hit of energy, no?'

I didn't have time to wait for his response. I walked out of the door, crossed Elizabeth street and entered into Belmore Park. It was nearly empty, which was good, as under my thin cotton pyjamas I was naked as hell.

There was one man standing on the grass, doing some kind of homeless Philosophy to himself. I decided to join his one-man conversation. What a great opportunity for ideas generation!

'You called the screws on me dintcha (sic). You fucken dog!'

I did my best to get into character. 'I did no such thing, sir. I hate the screw myself, you see! They're all swine!*'

'You ruined my bloody stake. We had a stake, you and me!' He said.

'Don't worry, sir. As soon as this Recession finishes up, we'll get our own stake, just the two of us. I have some cash saved up from unskilled labour. I don't eat much, and I'd be happy to do such as plant corn and the less manly jobs. I ensure you wouldn't hear but a peep out of me.'

'You lied to my face, you dog!'

Now I was bored. Still though, what about my own talent!

Did you noticed how I just 'sampled' some incidental noise and used it to make a conversation? Imagine if I could use my this talent to find a solution to The Recession? You know, crowd-sourced content, user-generated content, flip cameras, CMS, public space, messing with expectations, start-up company, follow a band round for a day, blogs, myspace, lighting up the Opera House, performances in obscure locations, blogs, people from Iceland.

'Wait a minute!' I said. 'I've got it!'

I pulled out my phone... 'Hello, Mayor's office please. Tell her it's James. Thank you. Clover? Babe, how are you? Now listen. Free up your diary for the 3rd of November and bring your best scissors... Why?'

I turned around dramatically and cracked seal on the second can of Mother: 'because I'm putting on an Arts festival.'

TBC

* I had to project my voice, as I was over 50m away.

In between 'Recessions' post: bits from the drafts folder.

I decided to take  a quick break from fighting the Recession. I obviously needed to write an inspirational speech for the students at my former high school, and also relished the rare opportunity to Do Recreation that the ceasefire afforded me.

The speech hasn't come quite along quite as far as I might have hoped; I'm stuck on the first two sections... Two and a half weeks later this is all I have:

Part 1: The economic crisis rundown (to be read really slowly, with finger pointing).

The reason we (the world) are in this financial mess is simple: our greed has caused debt. We have placed having things on a pedestal (a pedestal that did not consider the cost of these things when we bought them).

 So how do we deal with The Recession as individuals? Of course it would make sense for everyone to 'spend spend spend,' and gradually 'hoik' the US back into the black - but the case by case reality is never so simple. 
As columnist and award winning author Peter Fitzsimons put it: 'Control yourself/Take only what you neeeeeed from it.'

Part 2: My best friend came out to me on Schoolies week. What should I do?

 Oh man, heavy. Gay guys are fine - stop being homophobic... Oh God, it's a girl? Well, that's completely different. The high school boy's idea of lesbianism is completely different to the reality. It's mostly big chunky shoes and jeans with no back pockets. All finding a gathering of more than one 20-something male completely offensive, and nothing to chuckle along with. 

---

I also did some Journalism in the park on the weekend... Here are some vox pops:

James: So how are you today, sir?

Uni Student Squatter: Okay.

James: Your hair is interesting. Tell me about this.

S: I don't feel that I have to justify it to you.

J: Really? I feel the need to justify everything. Anyway, all I asked was if you could tell me about it.

S: It's got bits of green and purple, some dreadlocks and some braids.

J: Indeed.

James: So how are you today, sir?

Old man: I'm quite good, thank you James*

J: What do you perceive are the main problems in this area?

O: The drugs. Too many young fellas on drugs.

J: (nodding) Yes, yes. Adorably put. What other problems are there?

*I have a jumper (made by Jess) with my name sewn on the front. I was wearing it.

James: Hey, how are you?

19 year old Girl: Good thanks.

J: Did you party pretty hard last night?

19: Yeah, we ended up at a tattoo parlour in the Cross!

J: Woah did you get anything?

19: No, but - 

J: But you talked about it HEAPS didn't you? But you keep justifying how you can get a particular thing tattooed on you because you've liked it for ages, and you will always be into it? Even though your taste and fashion sense has changed every six months since you were 11? You mean like that?

19: No not -

J: Do you also spend half your time at parties with a cigarette in your hand, explaining to people that you hardly ever smoke? 

---

My life is mostly made up. This conversation with a homeless man, like nearly every other, never happened... Or did it (it didn't)?:

'$2000! Do you know what you could get for that much?'

'I don't know? Groceries for a year? A wall clock from David Met Nicole?  You could probably book Bang Gang to DJ for 40 minutes.'

'Being intentionally shallow again, are you lad?'

'Yes, that's the way I decided to take this.'

---

Sometimes life is hard. These are titles of posts I was going to write before life got too Difficult:

* There are children starving in Africa - Hello there, black stranger (reprise).
* I saw Kim Beazley speak on Sunday night at my Nan's church hall and was very impressed.

* 'Dishing out Justice'  - an upcoming feature article in one of those online music magazines. Check your junk folder.

* 'Up There Cazaly': A History of Things Peter Fitzsimons Might Say,
*'Sydney needs more wine-bars' (and similar) Broadsheet Lift-out Opinion Piece Generator Version 1.0.

---

THINGS A GOOD HOUSE PARTY NEEDS:

1. A boy nicknamed Smackers who is "furious":
"Yeeew! How are ya Smackers?"
"Boys, I'm furious!"

James VS The Recession III

They say people go through a series of different stages (eg shock, denial, rage) when dealing with The Recession. If handing out business cards to people lining up outside Billy Kwong's was a 'stage' in my coping strategy, I had certainly moved on (ran out of business cards).

I returned home and worked on Some Projects, before retiring early. The following morning I arose and checked my To Do list - zero items. I wandered down to Bourke Street Bakery to get coffee and something to eat. It cheered me up to see a long queue of people spilling out the door, waiting to pay too much for things. 'What recession?' They said (with their souls). What recession, indeed.

I sat across the road in the park and drank my coffee. It was a glorious day. The Recession couldn't take that away from me. I'm going to get myself behind some Philadelphia cheese today, I remember thinking at the time. 'Ah, my dear friend Life! Why do you throw me such straight, easy to hit balls?'

 All of a sudden my phone rang*. It was a private number, so I answered in an English accent. 'Hallo?' I said.

'Ah, hello, is that James Ross-Edwards?'

'It is.' I said. 'What is thouth name, madam?'

'Hello James, this is the school secretary from your old high school, how are you?'

I couldn't believe it. 'Are you the one from sick bay?'

'No, I only started last year.'

‘I’m confused…’

'The "Sister" works in the sick bay. I'm the secretary. I am calling on behalf of the Headmaster. He would like to invite you back to the school to address Year 12 students on entering the real world at the end of this year. That is, if you'd be interested.'

'I see. How long should the performance go for?'

'It's just a speech - around 15 minutes I'd imagine? It's during assembly.'

 I won’t bore you with the further details, but it was settled. I rushed home immediately and began preparing my speech. I started out by writing a piecemeal series of dot points containing various things I know about the real world. In order to engage with the intended audience, I tried to keep in mind things that year 12 students would probably find cool. Here is the my research from that day:

THE REAL WORLD – Some points by James Ross-Edwards:

1. People generally get way more interested in fonts after high school. This is regardless of gender, so applies to ALL of you. I can strongly recommend that you all invest in a black t-shirt with the world ‘helvetica’ written on the front.

2. Dudes are always raving about Europe. You should probably all try that out at some point. Like when you are on summer break from your GAP year where you work in an English boarding school and learn so much about the world.

3. Once when I was 18, I arrived home to my parent’s house late at night and there was a guy trying to break into the house. He said he was just looking for a drink of water, but I knew what was going on.

4. Every couple of years you will meet someone you can’t quite place. They are full of contradictions, may have an accent that doesn’t match where they grew up and don’t appear to have a set group of friends or social context. They are willing to drop everything immediately to become your best friend.

a) The person works as a security guard at a pub/night club:

Don’t stress this is normal. If necessary, request that they don’t show you their photos of dead people in Iraq… The conversation will probably go like this:

You: Hey, how you going?

Them: Wanna see my Land Rover?

You: ... Wow, it’s a nice one!

Them: I also have a Harley Davidson.

You: Okay, I’m not really equipped to appreciate that though. My main bragging point is that it’s 2003 and I know who the Kings Of Leon are.

Them: I take a bath every single day.

You: Sweet man, that could be fun.

Them: If you ever need anything like eccies, go or blow, I can sort you out.

You: You can tell we have different ideas about the world because your nicknames for party drugs make me feel uncomfortable.

            b) The person does not work as a security guard:

If this person is of the opposite sex (or you are a gay), you should pash them. These people are way easier to pick up than the people you went to school with. This may be because of their insecurities. It could also be because they dissolve half a gram of speed into their Mount Franklin bottle each morning. Earlier in life they probably excelled at something like ballet or child acting - they never ever mention this. Their fashion sense is inexplicable. 

 If, when you mention a local band to them they recoil in horror, all ‘DO NOT MENTION THAT BAND IN FRONT OF ME! NEVER EVER!’ Ask them why. You may want to start a blog.

TBC...

James VS The Recession II

After the Trouble I had with The Recession late last year, the outlook for 2009 was looking grim. I retreated to the coast mid-January and jumped off some rocks into water a few times - returning invigorated and inspired.

Sydney was all of a sudden a different place; the city opened up to me. I no longer felt conscious of my own body (like when you have an ear infection). I went for a stroll around Crown St and soaked in the atmosphere. This is what I saw and felt.

Billy Kwong's, Crown St:

A group of people were waiting in line for the 6:30PM sitting. They were mostly a bit older than I, and in spite of their relaxed discussion about fused dinners, you could tell that The Recession was lurking somewhere around the middle of their minds:

'I got tickets to The Presets AND season passes to the Swannies!' Said one.

'I hear The Presets are spectacular live.' Said another. This was greeted by a series of solemn nods and mentions that both members were trained at 'the con.'

I paused to do up my shoelace. Oh no! It wasn't today, it was summer (I was wearing thongs). Instead of standing up again, I remained crouching and updated Twitter from my phone. I will never, ever understand why I did this. The conversation outside Billy Kwong's continued.

The main man in the conversation had a shaved head and Barcelona chairs in his heart - which was easily visible from the sleeve of his flanellette shirt. His pre-dinner conversation managed to extend beyond his immediate, incorporating almost all of the waiting diners.

'... It was the strangest thing.' Said a peripheral lady. 'On the way here we saw the word "UPROCK" written in plastic cups on a fence.'

'It's called Cuprocking.' Said the Main Man. 'It's done by a guy from around here. It's pretty cool, huh?'

'Yeah, it's really expressive. And fun!'

'It's a far more efficient way to "bomb a public space," than with spray cans. It's very guerilla.'

'Oh wow, it sounds like it. I don't know very much about street art - working in accounting and all -'

The group suddenly went silent and stared at the ground as several young residents of the Oasis shelter - some of the best real estate in Surry Hills - walked past. The Main Man shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and pulled out his iPhone to make sure he hadn't been outbid on one of those knife blocks that look like the knives are stabbing the contemporary stick figure man.

I could feel the awkardness. You know, with them not knowing each other too well, homeless junky kids walking past and me crouching several metres away just typing their conversation into my phone. It was understandable. I decided to diffuse the situation by talking to them, like I had been part of the conversation  all along. I stood up and took a step towards the Main Man.

'Woah! Those homeless kids are so ugly!'

He looked up from his iPhone. 'Sorry?'

'It was probably lucky they walked past when they did though.' I said. 'I mean, like before you referred to Andy Uprock as one of the main "Cats in the scene" to this lady.' I tried to wink at the lady, but ended up just rapidly blinking (don't know how to wink).

'What are you talking about?'

'Do you also Get performance art?'

'What do you mean?' 

'You know when someone decides to stop going to their job and relating to people? Performance art is what happens when that person wears black slacks and is in a room when Clover Moore is making a speech. THAT, is what I mean.'

He looked at me horrified. 'Who are you?'

I extended my hand. 'Here's my card.'

It read:

James Ross-Edwards.

---

EXTRA UPDATE:

So I'm starting a thing where I interview someone each week about the weather, and what they like/don't like about it. My first interview was with myself, taken last week...

James: Do you like the weather we have been having lately?

James: Maybe not the rain, but I do generally like Autumn.

James: They call it Fall in -

James: I know.

James: Describe what you like the most about Autumn.

James: Yummy blue skies, washed out earthy shades, Pimms and Lemonade while Beirut plays in the background.

James: Wow, that sounds okay.

James: I don't know what Beirut is.

James: It's just a word people say if they are not threatening anyone at all and it is 2007.

James VS The Recession

I once got paid $100 to deliver Christmas hampers around an office building. It was organised by a friend of my Mum's. It was a good deal - it only took a few hours, and at the end everyone got pizza and soft drink. They even told me I could maybe do it again some time.

I reapplied for this job last week only to be rejected. You guess it, The Recession had struck again. They were nice about it, using buzz words like 'seasonal' and 'one-off' to make me feel better. The Recession seems to be placing me on a pedestal (a pedestal that does not allow me to get short-term casual work).

Another example. In late 2001 I made nearly $2000 (about $250,000 today) by selling charity chocolates. Brad helped. I ordered 100 massive boxes of them to my house on behalf of my school, and sold them under the guise of raising money for a school football trip that I was 99% sure would be cancelled (it was).

I tried to recreate this business model in November 2008, sans Brad. I started at Macquarie Bank HQ in the city. This will be great, I remember thinking at the time. Surely The Recession won't bother me in this place. I wandered into the Bond St building feeling confident, $96 RRP of Maltesers in one hand, and equal value in Bounty/Snickers/Mars in the other. If I got rid of those boxes this afternoon, I'd be around $66 in black. 'Electric feel!' I said (a popular expression for excitement at the time).

I wandered in the Bond St entrance and waited for someone to get in the lift, so I could hitch a ride on their security pass. It wasn't long before several of the bank's finest arrived back from lunch at Ryan's Bar. They were all male, over 6 feet and mostly had attended the same private school as I had. This proved a good ice breaker - as I not only fit the above description, but additionally was dressed from head-to-toe in my former school uniform - the most suitable attire I owned.

Before I could start giving my chocolate spiel, the group of us spontaneously erupted into a loud version of 'Sex on Fire' (we didn't have another song we all knew). O the might with which we sang! O the force with which our huddle of bodies was held together - I was anything I wished. I was a Latin phrase at the bottom of a crest, I was an Aboriginal child on a sporting scholarship. I was staring down on Regular Joes and Janes with contempt. In that moment I was Recession Proof. 

Once the sing-along was complete, I was ushered into the lift with a series of backslaps and hugs.

'So what floor are you guys going too?' I said.

'We're all going to a meeting on the 10th. Do you want to come?'

'Yes.'

I followed them out of the lift, and across the corridor of the 10th floor into a meeting room. Two men with enormous head decorations were at the table. It was The Presets.

'KIM, Julian, this man in a school uniform is our friend. He is here to sell us all chocolate for a rugby tour.'

'Silence!' Said The Presets. Several of the men began to shake with fear. 'I don't see any chocolates.'

'I, uh.' I'd somehow lost the chocolates in all the singing and hugging in the lobby. 'I am sorry. I lost them.'

ENDLOGUE

* I returned home, chocolate-less and with a ripped school blazer.

* Several weeks later The Presets played a reportedly amazing show at the Macquarie Bank's Christmas party.

* The Recession continued its progress unabated. It is believed to be currently based out of the empty space at Muscles Music Blog.

Funny/Not Funny

Funny things don't happen to me anymore - this is probably why I haven't been posting so much on this blog. These days just normal stuff happens, basically always. Did you know that over 80% of the funny things I write about never actually happened?

Like that time I wrote about the 70 year old Aboriginal guy who had overdosed on heroin and still managed to escape from RPA and the Police? That wasn't actually me doing those things, I just heard it on the Police scanner at my Old Job.

And like how I once implied that some fellows that Frank Sartor played footy with were dicks because they had suffered some pretty horrible abuse in the past? That isn't true, I've never met them, it was just a guess.

See, nothing funny ever happens in real life - I just made you think it did with my clever writing. If I had had this blog in The Day, there would have had some extremely funny things to write about. 

For example, there was this one day in high school where an argument in recess ended in an agreement to have an informal debate at lunch, exchanging insult for insult. It was me and Will versus Dean and Phil. I didn't back myself impromptu, in the traditional 'yo mama' way of the creoles, so I wrote about 10 pages of notes in my school diary, reserving some extra harsh things in case.

I was a little nervous, being the underdog side, and received some pretty heavy blows early on: 'you have the same haircut as your mum,' a particular one I recall. I was quick to bite back however, drawing first blood:

'Dean pretended he was drunk at Camille Mortlock's party in the Christmas holidays between year 9 and year 10 and he punched a car and broke his hand! And he was wearing a full matching Champion tracksuit!'

I can't remember much more of the abuse I suffered or dished out, perhaps I have blocked out all the harsh things that were said in front of a playground full of people. But everyone laughed, so it must have been funny. Not like today - today is boring.

Google Analytics Report #1

The following is a list of things people have typed into Google that have lead them to my blog. Although I hate to look past the "c-word," I think my favourite is the Q-Bar membership enquiry... Or number 20.

1. tiny men

2. "award school"

3. big coronas or tiny men

4. great humanitarians

5. 36cb69faeb2b6cd6b0e14bbb5837401

6. big coronas small me

7. big cunts

8. big women tiny men fuck

9. claudia newstead*

10. exact tiny for men

11. funny pictures of tiny men

12. james ross's t shirt

13. list of great humanitarians

14. men slang-cockpit

15. mens cardigans, in target, nsw australia

16. myf dingo

17. myf dingo magazine

18. myf warhurst dingo

19. myf warhurst dingo magazine

20. sucking big dicks

21. tiny

22. tinymen or

23. vegas lounge membership card qbar

24. waiting for the front door to splinter, waiting all winter