Mushroom Doodles

A few days before the Know Your Mushrooms Possible World's event at Red Rattler, I asked myself: Can I make a zine as well as help organise all the decorations/installations for the night? Zine making for Punk Monk Propaganda- involved events has become a tradition of sorts for fellow Punk Monkey Alexander and I and somewhat of an obsession since we thought we'd try it out at ALGAE RHYTHM 0.01 earlier in the year.

Crafting this zine was especially fun as I explored the mushroom santa theory, anti- drug propaganda posters, old shaman rituals and ancient cultural practises with mushrooms, subverted penis envy and with Alex's collaboration and ever-valuable contributions doodled my way until completed was a zine.

The feedback on the night was really flattering and I even spied some young men fleeing the scene with more than their share of zines and silver shiny mushrooms, magic glinting in their mischievous eyes. A zine with catcus mushroom smudges lay atop the tinned stash, Director Ron Mann tells me about his research on comics (Comic Book Confidential) and how much he loves our zine is and at the end of the night there are no zines left in the FREE ZINES box and not a single one is left behind abandoned. Very satisfying for what was meant to be a throw together zine.

Additionally we found the cheapest photocopying place thus far in the heart of china town (Thanks Karina for this one!). Listen up fellow zine makers:

"Design and Print"

413-415 Sussex Street, Haymarket 2000

0292800839

We photocopied something like 210 pages for 15 bucks. The crazy lady running the extremely busy shop said we could have 400 pages for 20 bucks... but we opted to pay 5 bucks less and not have to take care of that many pages. We were in and out in no time chuffed! Our new favourite hangout is Design and Print Chinatown, what an experience!

Ever want one of our zines just contact: clare@punk-monk.com (that's me). All our zines are a labour of love and therefore free to all.

Before Tomorrow: Why must we die?

Before Tomorrow is a unique cinematic experience. I felt incredibly blessed I was able to watch it- and it was only by random chance that I decided to go. Once the film begun I realized that I was meant to witness this beautiful and tragic tale. The film’s main narrative surrounds a boy and his grandmother dispossessed from their Inuit tribe whose fate they alone escaped. To survive they narrate and create stories. The grandmother leads with great burden in her heart but with complete love speaking of a greater place and they wander two lone seekers towards an unreachable horizon. What would it be like to be the last two people on earth?

The harsh and untamable force of the Arctic environment, the experience of almost complete loss and grief and the physical turmoil of desperate search for life presents a very different and pathos reality over idealized utopia of grandmother’s story. There is an underlying sensation of endlessness which brings out a vicarious fear for audiences, as they imagine the horror of being ‘left behind’. However, the film is an uplifting one, with a beautiful message and a powerful image of the Inuit as joyful, loving humans who depend upon the powerful ties within their tribe and laugh heartily at the very newly discovered oddities of western culture blissfully unaware of it’s threat. The film presents this full circle- the spirits of those passed are called upon for guidance throughout with a beginning and closure of complete joy as given by the gift of family.

Presently lusciously, the cinematography generously documents with great detail and affection both the breathtaking and encapsulating landscape of the Tundra and the genuine presence and poignancy of its inhabitants. Not unlike a dream or meditation, the filmic rhythm slowly laps onwards, each moment savoured and given time to settle and each small piece of the journey moving us towards an enlightened state. The all female Arnait Video collective of North Canada have community, cultural preservation and storytelling down to a beautiful art form. Find and See Before Tomorrow.

The Spores Have Been Released!

Know Your Mushrooms, gem of Possible World's Canadian Film Festival premiered in Australia last Saturday night alongside a psychedelic carnivale of kaleidoscopic colour, dancing glowing bodies, circus tricks and pure devotion to the fungi. All hailed the man (Ron Mann) who brought us this combination of tripped out adventures, scientific teachings, fungi worship, pop culture pastiche and eye opening knowledge about the magic, joy and healing functions of the mushroom. The message: we can save the universe with the help of this prehistoric fungi, we just need to know it, love it, embrace it- Fungi phobia ends here.

Ron Mann accompanied the Punk Monk faeries and curious Sydney siders, travellers and mushroom gypsies in what he described as the most amazing celebration of his 2008 documentary to date. Who are all these amazing fire twirlers, hula hoopers, musicians, street artists, projection bombers, liquid light alchemists and chocolate cactus wizards? They’re our friends and friends of friends and friends of friends of friends who have been drawn out of the cracks of Sydney’s underground to do something interesting with their Saturday night and contribute to what makes Sydney such a wonderful place for collaboration and celebration.

The Inner West’s current coolest venue The Red Rattler (Marrickville) played the perfect host for the bubbling activities of the night; an alley way warehouse rescued by five queer women with a mission; to lower venue prices and provide a platform for artist run events and experiments. Anything can go down at a Red Rattler event so check them out: redrattler.org.

A copy of the Know Your Mushrooms zine featuring an ominous penis mushroom cover and a short film capturing some of the psychadelia mushroom vibe are coming to Lilith’s blogspot soon.

Stay tuned for a totally different experience as I embark on my next Possible World’s festival adventure: Darryl’s Hard Liquor and Porn Festival at Bobbi’s Pole Studio.

Possible World’s Canadian Film Festival is still running until Wednesday so check it out: possibleworlds.net.au

(All photos by Susie Stavert: susie@susiejstavert.com.au except this last one by Punk Monk Andy Finn- see more at awolmonk.blogspot.com)

Child Lies to Parents #1004

I haven’t told my parents I’m a vegetarian. I’ve been a vegetarian for two years now. It troubles me and I’ve been trying to figure out why the subject of not eating meat is such a daunting one when it comes to my parents. I have a long history of disputes with my father over the choices I’ve made for my life and for my future (or lack of in his opinion) and left/ was banished from home due to a clash of ideals in this arena. I have stood up to him on every single issue and struggled for my freedom, however this simple confession makes me feel physically ill. Not only am I having daddy dramas but I almost feel guilty when I consider coming out to my step mother that I am one of “those” people. In high school I willingly contended/pretended that I was a lesbian in a relationship with my bestie, that I was a pill popping drug addict, that I was having the baby of my dropkick bogan boyfriend… all just to scare my parents, why can’t I just tell them that I do not eat meat. There was a time I would have enjoyed the look of horror on their faces.

Visits home, infrequent as they are, usually equate to some small amount of meat being consumed to distract my parents from this fact. These have merely sparked rumours of an eating disorder which I have emphatically denied. I feel chained and a child again, as I just recoil and pretend and give in. And maybe I find comfort in this. I go home and I am taken care of; meals are made for me, I get a big bedroom with a TV in it, central heating, a pantry full of snacks, even a car at my disposal… I like to go back to this normality, to where I don’t make any adult decisions, I don’t have to work on any adult relationships, do any housework, pay any bills… my parents aren’t ever going to change. I have my freedom now, I have a whole separate life my parents don’t even try to understand anymore, let alone affect, but it’s also full of responsibility and stressful choices and I am free of that when I go home. I like civil even if it means repression and letting a couple of things go. I am not a vegetarian at home because I was not brought up that way, because my dad is a doctor and he knows what’s best for my health, because my step-mum slaves away in the kitchen to make good meals for me and because if I am a vegetarian then I’ve been lying for the last two years and what’s the meaning of that?

Recently my boyfriend’s mother almost outed me at a family lunch for my 21^st birthday when talking about Alex’s vegetarianism asked “but isn’t Clare a vegetarian too?”( she has made me vegetarian meals before after all). Her response was “not in our house she’s not!!” with a sound of surprise from my parents.

So in their house I’m a traitor, to myself, to what I believe in, to what my body needs, and though the amounts consumed are small, I am still a coward and a fake. My parents accept that version of me and may even know deep down that I feed them a lot of watered down accounts of my life in return for peace.

I must consider now though if it is time to grow up and come out and stop feeling sick about it.

Dad, Step-Mum: I am a dirty, enviro- loving, anti-meat, vege loving, hippy and I am considering one day, when my hair is long enough, getting my hair put into dreadlocks.

*runs away.

Missing Peg.

I'm not sure if it's obvious... but I miss my best friend.

Sad Sack Needs Communication

Sometimes listening for what hasn’t been said is the key to understanding communication breakdowns. I have learnt this the hard way.

Communication is not letting one person blab about how every day is the worst day of their lives and wishing you were doing something, anything else. It’s not blame games via myspace blogs. It is not snarky text messages asking who ate the last of the biscuits or left the fridge door open. It most certainly isn’t assuming that because someone can’t always focus all their energy on you and your problems that they hate you or are disgusted by you. You know what else is definitely, definitely isn’t? returning all the photographs you have of a person to the person (the already horrified, traumatized and downbeaten person who doesn’t even realize where it all went wrong) These are made up thoughts, misdirected and meaningless words/actions and repressed real emotions and often really cruel ways to hide true meaning. These are dead ends and poor relationship management skills on both ends.

I grew up in a household where when people were angry or upset they yelled at one another in order to communicate feeling/s. Aggression is not the best form of expression but it is still a form and at least I always knew where I stood. Though I have always put my own feelings on the backburner, being somewhat of a martyr and like my mother; always wanting those around me to be happy (before I myself could possibly consider my own happiness), I have learnt a lot about emotional responsibility in my (almost) 21 years of life. Firstly that my happiness is my responsibility and that others happiness is not my responsibility. When I say responsibility I mean that there is only one leader and perhaps everyone around them is part of a team they may utilise to guide and assist them in their own happiness but in the end if it all falls apart there are no scapegoats.

I believe that communication, spoken and unspoken, natural and prompted, is the glue in relationships. No matter how horrible you feel about your life, it is your responsibility to take control and steer it in the direction you want it to go in and usually this involves letting others in that can help you. You cannot always expect people to guess or just “know” somehow when you are stuck or needing help and you especially cannot blame others for your own unhappiness. COMMUNICATION.

Unfortunately unhappiness is a little infectious, especially when living or working in close confines to other sad sacks. When I was a kid, I had some sessions with a child therapist because I had trouble communicating and understanding other children. I blamed other children for the fact that they weren’t my friends- it must have been them, not me. I became paranoid and self-hating from the young age of 7. Luckily I was trained out of these negative thought patterns (not that I ever became miss popular) and realized I was just being a freak and that other children also liked walking around the playground picking flowers and singing to them and making daisy chains and that it was up to me to find them and befriend them. I was also encouraged to make up an imaginary figure called “sad sack”- a sad little boy version of me with blonde hair and blue eyes who understood my feelings of isolation and who I could unload onto instead of risking one day exploding from repression and alienation and also so I could stop using the people who cared about me as sad sack punching bags of blame and guilt. I always thought creating imaginary friends was an interesting activity for trying to mend an inability to make real ones… but it worked okay (although I’m still a bit of a freak- but I discovered there are other freaks too so it’s all cool!).

Do you think you might need a sad sack so you can stop being one?

P.S I’d dedicate this to someone in particular but I’m hoping one day we might re-kindle our friendship.