Video shot by Chloe of in-hindsight-kind-of-hilarious Kenji arrest drama at Fed Square in the evening, where a small group had gone to disrupt a Kony 2012 rally (I unfortunately missed this, having taken off earlier for Studdsy’s 30th birthday party):
This long-awaited and much-anticipated function at James Muldoon’s house to celebrate the scheduled end of OM’s as-it-turned-out-not-actually-finished-yet Federal Court litigation against Melbourne City Council was – perhaps predictably – a clusterfuck. But perfectly so.
I was late and missed most of it except the disastrous conclusion and surreal, prolonged aftermath. Not much media was captured, or at least not by me.
(UPDATE (11th Sept 2015): I found two pieces of audio. This one, captured at 2:15am on my way to Muldoon’s, and the one at the foot of this post, captured at 5:33am at Golden Towers in the city:)
All I have is notes:
I’m particularly sad I didn’t manage, despite trying, to record Cobina’s unforgettable trashed mic check after everyone was chucked out of Muldoon’s house at around 3am (“DOES THE COLLECTIVE / WISH TO PRIORITIZE / FOOD, OR ALCOHOL? / WE SHOULD MAKE A DECISION / AND PROCEED ON THAT BASIS. / YOU ARE ALL FUCKED. / YOU ARE ALL.FUCKED.”) – leaving a horde of feral occupiers running amok on the streets of Brunswick unable to reach consensus, and ultimately sitting stubbornly for hours and hours by the side of Sydney Rd throughout the night for no particular reason except that, y’know, that’s what occupiers do.
Here’s a photo I took during said sit-in at around 5am (the sign at the top, which you can’t read due to overexposure, said “WHELAN: THE WRECKER”. This seemed profoundly meaningful or at least funny at the time):
And here’s a photo of chalkage done by Kenji at City Square, where the two of us ultimately wound up, compass-like, at 7am:
In a nutshell: systematically climbed the fuck out of hell. Again. (See previously: 2005; 2007; 2009.)
And it’s good! Can’t complain.
“Friends – you know who you are; you know we’re grateful.” – Blur, 1993. (Seriously. If ever a year was about Who Your Real Friends Are, it was 2011.)
Similarly, those who have fucked me up and fucked me over this year most likely know who they are also, and possibly how I feel about this (hint: angry, bewildered and sad) – with the possible exception of the Rt Hon Lord Mayor of Melbourne Robert Doyle (note contact details), who I strongly suspect does not have any idea who I am.
(I also doubt he reads this blog. But since it just can’t be said often enough I might as well take this opportunity to (re)state, for the record: Robert Doyle, you’re a fucking cunt. You really are.)
The bulk of this year’s SIDTY post I rendered in audio format at the coast a few nights ago. It goes into a bit more detail (although, to be honest, not all that much). Enjoy:
The PatrickPorter award for the best present and best guest overall goes to Kirrily. The prize for the most perverse guests goes to the Keith!Party crew – comprising on this occasion Talkshow Boy, 2-SHEE, Hot God, Gezus and entourage including Ms C. C*ulter (alias unknown) – who turned up unfashionably early, immediately occupied what would normally be the dancing room and systematically set about turning it into a chillout room. WTF. (NB: And it was *great*.)
Prize for the most long-lost-but-pleasingly-now-seemingly-regained former CH party regular goes to Vicwie. Prize for the best guest who wasn’t able to attend physically but who came in essence goes, as always, to Wads. Prize for the best autographed copy of Kafka’s “Metamorphosis” and best Tasweigan mafia attaché goes to Doktor Midnight aka The Dan CrossRevolution. Prize for the best drug by almost universal consensus goes to nitrous oxide.
Prize for the most gobsmacking act of delusionality – not to mention the most concerted but nevertheless pathetically unsuccessful attempt to ruin a birthday party of mine in the history of the world – goes to the profoundly fucked in the head disappointing Ms G. Rouse. Prize for the most departing housemate of three years goes to Grim$ha.
Prize for the most heroically tenacious still-recovering-from-her-own-birthday-shenanigan-the-previous-night attendee and all-round best MC-Ren-would-you-please-give-your-testimony-to-the-jury-about-this-fucked-up-incident regaliousness goes to Toots.
Special award for the mouthiest ho goes, as it generally does, to Kat (see audio, below).
Extra special thanks to, y’know, everyone. Seriously.