I've Been Your Fan Since Yesterday

Every night I lie away in my bed and I write. Well, "write" I guess isn't the correct word. I come up with shit in my head. Compose, that's what I do. I have ideas and I compose lines that seek to turn these words into stories. And they are good lines as well. Funny lines. Lines that make me chuckle to myself and make excellent representations of the ideas I wish to convey. Now this is good. It's good that I have a mind that is able express itself with a certain amount of clarity, however there is one problem. For some reason, whilst I lie in my bed, something prevents me from reaching down to the floor and grabbing my laptop, or even a pen and paper, and jotting these lines down. I just can't do it. I know I should be able to, I mean, it seems simple enough, but for some reason I am restrained. And then, come the morning, these profound, witty lines that I have composed have disappeared from my brain. Gone, possibly never to return. It frustrates me no end, yet I can't seem to rectify this situation.

On Saturday night I had a dream. In this dream I had a drawn three pictures and I was attempting to submit these pictures for publication in a magazine. This was, obviously, related to my real life where I am attempting to have a short-story of mine published by a magazine. In this dream I sat with the editor of the magazine discussing my pictures. He was enthused about two of them, yet this gave me little joy, I wasn't particularly interested in his approval. There was, however, someone else in the room whom I was desperate to impress. The pictures I had drawn were for her. Well, not specifically for her, but expressing myself through these pictures was an attempt to gain her approval. Upon waking I realised that this was possibly a significant revelation.

On the 25th of January 1999 I headed to the Prince Of Wales in St Kilda. Around this time it was extremely rare for me to venture outside my bedroom. Whilst other people my age were experiencing the joys of social interaction and experimenting with drugs, alcohol and various kinds of sexual tomfoolery, I stayed in my room, afraid. However, an event was to transpire at the aforementioned venue and date that was of such importance to me that I was able to suppress any fear and anxiety I may have felt towards interacting socially. Throughout my teenage years, one band had been more important to me than any other. I collected anything and everything I could get my hands on concerning this band - albums and singles both CDs and vinyl, pictures, any and every interview I could find. I copied their fashion, and investigated any cultural touch-stone they name-checked. This show at the Prince Of Wales was to be their first in Melbourne. Attendance was essential. I arrived at the venue several hours before doors were to open in order to be able to secure the mandatory position right up the front against the crash-barrier. Already there was a small group of girls camped outside door. One of these girls captivated me immediately. She was wearing a polka dot head scarf and big white-rimmed sunglasses. She was the coolest person I'd ever seen in my life. When the doors to the venue opened fate placed me right next to her up against the barrier. And if this wasn't compelling enough, she actually began to talk to me! Having had no contact whatsoever with members of the opposite sex (bar family members and old people) since entering secondary school, this was an extraordinary mind explosion. Not only was a girl talking to me, but this girl also happened to be the coolest girl in the world! I was intoxicated.

Katey was from Perth and we kept in touch via the internet and telephone. We formed a bond. She came back over to Melbourne in October of that year for another show and it was mutually agreed that we had an important and long-lasting friendship. Supremely intelligent and culturally astute, I considered her somewhat of a mentor. She seemed to be completely in-the-know about everything, whether it be music, art, anything socio-political or just straight up political. I mean, Jesus, she had been listening to My Bloody Valentine since she was 12! I made a joke once that I suspected that information must arrive in her inbox a full two days before it was published anywhere else. To me, she didn't just have her finger on the pulse, she was the pulse itself. We made plans together. We'd move to London and get a flat. We both disliked Australia, and with our mutual Anglophillia London was the obvious place to be. Things would be different there. Unfortunately it didn't turn out this way. Whilst I made it to London by January 2001, Katey, somehow, found herself in Birmingham several months later. Although she came down to London frequently and we'd go to gigs and swan around like we'd envisaged, the fleeting nature of these visits were always going to be a disappointment for me. By the time Katey decided to move to London, around March 2003, I was in possession of an expired visa and was wrangling with the Home Office in an ultimately unsuccessful attempt to stay in the country.

On the 14th of February 2004 I received an email from Katey that signed off - "Things would have been different if you had stayed in London". Cryptic, huh? What did she mean? Was she referring to the bad time I was having back in Melbourne? Or was she indicating something sexy could have gone down between us? This was the last communication I received from her. Since then she has been silent, no explanation, nothing. I know she's still alive because she DJs at an indie-pop night in London called Spiral Scratch. Her lack in presence in my life saddens me greatly. Although it's been several years since we've had contact I still feel like I'm trying to win her approval. As she was the first girl I ever spoke to after reaching puberty, and also someone whom I found astonishingly cool, she has a certain grip on my psyche. I don't think it is any overstatement to suggest that everything I have done since the 25th of January 1999 has been in attempt to be commended by Katey.

Which leads me back to my inability to physically write. It's not lack of ideas that is the problem, I have enough material in my head to be writing almost constantly. It's something else. Some deep-seeded restraint that I am struggling to break free from. I think this dream I had on Saturday night was trying to tell me that whomever else is out there, whether they are editors, publishers or other friends, their interest in my work could never have the impact on me that approval from Katey could. So, is this my problem? That all I want in this life is for Katey Lee to think I'm cool? And now that she is no longer in my life there just isn't any motivation for me to be productive? This is highly plausible. Maybe it's true that I just don't have the desire to impress anyone else. Maybe her endorsement is the only think that will give me the impetus I require to implement my ideas. Maybe things would have been different if I had stayed in London.

High On Diesel And Gasoline

Before the inevitable cocktail of smack, crack and old age kicked in, Brett Anderson was a lyrical genius. Now before you all choke on your Pitchfork Media bookmarks, just hear me out.
Whilst the less self-conscious amongst the music intelligentsia will be willing to admit that the band's self-titled debut and its follow up, Dog Man Star are great albums, the general consensus is that Suede's quality left with Bernard Butler. This, however, is entirely false, for the band's third album, Coming Up is quite the masterpiece. Far from being some bullshit Britpop brush-aside, Coming Up is a knowing and clever pop gem. What people fail to realise about this album is that it is pastiche. It knowingly apes the cultivated public persona of cheap and sleazy glamour of their previous material, as well as the band's style and mannerisms. "Maybe, maybe it's the clothes we wear, the tasteless bracelets and the dye in our hair...maybe, maybe it's our nowhere towns our nothing places and our cellophane sounds." That shit is witty. Bands who shift units like Suede did are not supposed to be that self-aware. But for me the killer line on the album comes in the 7 minutes epic The Chemistry Between Us where Anderson sings "Oh, class A, class B, is that the only chemistry between us?". To me, that line is a good summation of the band, it's a line loaded with wonderful imagery. The thing is no-one credits Anderson with being able to be that wry. In light of some of the abysmal lines that he was to write on subsequent releases maybe it's best to be cynical, but I like to think that he had a knowing smirk on his face when he wrote that lyric.
Beside being such a literary masterwork, Coming Up also contains some of the best glam-pop hooks Bowie never wrote. Where previous Suede albums were much suited to being consumed smacked out on one's bed in a dingy council flat, Coming Up is a motherfucking party starter. The Beautiful Ones is mandatory for any UK-centric club night and Filmstar should be on every single one of those bullshit "driving songs" compilations they sell at motorway service areas. Unfortunately, due to the band's lack of coolness amongst the tastemakers Coming Up is destined to be one of the great overlooked albums of the nineties (that said, Dog Man Star is better).

This Sporting Life

Bangladesh are my favourite cricket team. Whilst it may seem odd that I do not support my own national team, there's something about Bangladesh that I find utterly compelling. Australia, as well as being a bunch of arseholes, are completely boring. There's nothing about their style of play I find appealing, and nothing about their personal attributes I find appealing either. Bangladesh, on the other hand are utterly charming. Anyone who knows a little bit about cricket will be aware that Bangladesh do not win many games. Now the reason I have such an affection for a team of perpetual losers goes beyond just sympathy for the underdog, or liberal guilt towards an impoverished country. You see, Bangladesh aren't just your everyday poor players, they are in fact blessed with extraordinary natural talent. Players such as Mohammad Ashraful, Tamim Iqbal, and (especially) Aftab Ahmed are some of the most beautiful and technically correct batsman currently playing the game. When they get it right they are glorious to watch, quite frankly they look as good or better than any of the game's superstars. And this is what I find so fascinating about Bangladesh; it's their inability to turn this natural talent and obvious skill into consistently good performances. This is a team that occasionally look like they are deserving to be playing against the top teams in the world, but more frequently make the errors of amateur schoolboys. Their occasional victories are tarnished by their seemingly impulsive desire towards self-sabotage. It almost seems like they are purposely trying to lose. To be truly honest about this, I identify with them. I kind of feel like that a fairly decent analogy can be made between the way Bangladesh play cricket and the way I live my life. We both have a good degree of potential, yet neither of us seem able to implement these abilities in any consistent or purposeful way.

Professor Timothy McSchmoo. 1995 - 2008

My beloved dog, Professor Timothy McSchmoo aka Comandante José Luis Rodriguez-Sanchez Jr, made the move from earth to doggy heaven today. The strain of lecturing in Anthropology at the University of Edinburgh as well as fighting a guerrilla war deep in the Nicaraguan jungle finally took its toil on him. He will be remembered for his acute intellect, uncompromising political ideals and his beautiful soft ears.

Farewell, Professor. You were a wonderful man.

The Book Lovers

A trip to the psychologist.

Doctor Veronica Clarke: Hello, Grant. How are you?

Grant Wyeth: I'm feeling great, Doctor Clarke! I met a girl!

DVC: That's excellent. What's her name?

GW: I don't know yet.

DVC: You don't know?

GW: Well, I haven't actually spoken to her.

DVC: But you said you'd met her?

GW: I know where she works.

DVC: OK.

GW: Borders, in the city. I go in there every few days just to see her.

DVC: So this is a girl you do not know, have not engaged in any conversation with, yet you go to her place of employment every few days to see her?

GW: Yeah, but I don't know when her shifts are, so I've only seen her the once. Which is unfortunate. I'd really like to see her again.

DVC: Do you not think that this behaviour is a little creepy? I mean, it could be said that you are stalking this girl.

GW: But, she doesn't know that I'm going in there all the time. She hasn't been there.

DVC: I'd say that still constitutes stalking. You're still attempting to see her, even if she's not there.

GW: No, it's only stalking if they catch you doing it. The next time she is working and she sees me, she'll just be like "Oh, there's that cool guy who was in here the other week." She won't know how many times I've been into the store in the meantime.

DVC: But, the fact that you are attempting to see her each time you go indicates you have some sort of fixation with her. Regardless of whether she is there or not your behaviour could be deemed inappropriate.

GW: I think it's nice.

DVC: Nice?

GW: It's nice to have someone think that you are special. I would like it very much if someone would attempt to see me on a regular basis. I would find in flattering. And besides, it wasn't even me who first noticed her. It was Katy Stevens. She's the one who told me that I had to make her my girlfriend so she could borrow her dress.

DVC: That sounds like something someone would say in jest.

GW: No, I don't think so. It was a lovely dress. Why wouldn't Katy Stevens wish to borrow it?

DVC: I'm sure it was a lovely dress, and I'm sure that Katy Stevens would have liked to have worn the dress at some stage, but instructing someone to get involved in a relationship with another person just so they can borrow an item of clothing isn't really a serious suggestion. And for you just to blindly follow that suggestion is a little disturbing. Did you find the girl in the dress attractive of your own accord?

GW: Yes, of course! I thought the girl in the dress looked fantastic as well. Although, I think she'd look better without any clothes on at all, if you know what I mean?

DVC: I think it's fairly obvious what you mean.

GW: Well, it's just an expression.

DVC: Usually it's used after a statement a little more subtle and ambiguous than the one you used.

GW: No it's not, it's just used to indicate sexiness.

DVC: Well, there was nothing sexy about what you said.

GW: Yes there was, I said she'd look good with her clothes off. That sexy. You can't have sex with your clothes on.

DVC: You can. But the point is that sexiness is usually a little more nuanced than that. Being blunt is rather crude. It's fairly unappealing.

GW: So what you're saying is that I shouldn't try and get this girl to remove her clothes? That I can have sex with her with her clothes on, and this is, in fact, a better form of sex?

DVC: No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I merely meant that when verbalising sexual interest it is much better to be subtle. It is less intimidating and more imaginative. That said, I'm speaking in general terms here. I'm not suggesting that you attempt anything even remotely along these lines with the girl at Borders. Unless you are able to engage with her in a natural manner.

GW: So, if I engage with her naturally, say, I ask her about a book or something, and then when we become acquainted we should have sex with our clothes on?

DVC: Ok, look, just forgot about having sex with your clothes on. It's completely irrelevant. In fact, sex in this whole topic is irrelevant. What we are discussing is the appropriate way for you to approach a girl that you are interested in, and this doesn't not involve stalking her at her place of employment.

GW: So how do I meet her then? Her place of employment is the only thing I know about her. That, and she owns a nice dress.

DVC: You just can't be constantly going into the store just to see her. Maybe, if there is a book you wish to purchase you can go to the store and if she is working then that is fine. But you can't just keep going in constantly.

GW: But the more often I go in the better the chance of her being there.

DVC: Well, that is true, but it's inappropriate. It makes you seem obsessive. Something that is deemed suspicious by most people.

GW: So how often can I go in? Once a week?

DVC: There's not set amount of time. You should only go in when you are in need to purchase something form the store.

GW: What about when I want to read a magazine? That's the best thing about Borders. You can just go in and read magazines. They have chairs and everything. You can sit and read the whole magazine if you want. You don't even have to buy it. I do it all the time. I totally swindle them.

DVC: Yes, but magazines aren't released daily. You don't have to be in there every day reading magazines. What I'm saying is that whenever you require something of the store, that's when you should go there. You shouldn't go there just in order to see if this girl. And if she does happen to be working the time you go in, then that is a lucky coincidence.

GW: Ok, so say she is working when I go in to purchase a book or something, what do I say to her?

DVC: I don't know what you say to her. That's not what I'm here for. I'm not a dating instructor.

GW: But you must have some handy hints? I mean, you're a woman, what do you like to hear from a potential lover?

DVC: That's a bit personal, don't you think? I need to maintain my professionalism.

GW: Ok, well, just, like, stop the clock and let's talk about it just as two friends.

DVC: I'm not going to "stop the clock", you're here for me to assist you with your psychological problems, not for me to help you get laid.

GW: But aren't they the same thing? I mean, if I had a girlfriend I wouldn't need to come here. Everything would be fine. In fact, it could be said that you are hindering my attempts to get a girlfriend so I will continue to give you money. That's why you don't want me to go into Borders on a regular basis because I might actually get somewhere with her.

DVC: Do you truly believe that? Do you think I would act in such an unprofessional manner? Furthermore, I think your problems are a little more complex to just be solved by your entering into a relationship.

GW: But isn't that the ultimate goal here? For me to be able to be a proper functioning member of society and have a partner like everyone else?

DVC: Is that what you think, that having a partner is a sign of being a functioning member of society?

GW: Of course, that's what it's about, isn't it? That's when you've won, when you've got a partner.

DVC: What do you mean by "won"?

GW: You've been victorious. You've achieved the aim of life. Being in love, surely that's the goal? Everything else is rather insignificant.

DVC: Well, I guess that is somewhat true. But I'm a little concerned that you see that as what you need to achieve in order to be happy.

GW: Why, because you don't think it's achievable for me? You don't think I'm able to have a girlfriend?

DVC: That's not what I'm saying. What I mean is that for you to see this as your primary goal might be placing a large amount of pressure on yourself.

GW: Pressure that I can't handle?

DVC: No! It just seems like you have this obsession that finding a partner, it is your sole focus. You need to not be so myopic.

GW: So what else should be be focusing on?

DVC: Anything, your university work, or a hobby.

GW: What, like fishing or something?

DVC: If that interests you.

GW: It doesn't.

DVC: Why did you say it then?

GW: I don't know, that's the sort of hobby normal people have. You know, going away, getting outdoors, shit like that. I hear that's the sort of thing people do. It happens all the time. I can't say I understand it though.

DVC: What don't you understand?

GW: The outdoors, going away.

DVC: Well, it's just about spending time away from the hustle and the bustle.

GW: But, I like the hustle and the bustle. In fact there's not enough hustle and bustle. Everything is in the city, why would you leave?

DVC: Well, not everyone thinks like that. Some people can't handle the pace of the big city.

GW: Well, it's hardly a "big city", you know? This city is kind of weak, it needs to be bigger and busier, like a proper city.

DVC: Is that something that would interest you, being in a bigger city?

GW: Yeah, it would, I find bigger cities more interesting. A plus, the more people in a city and the greater the chance of being able to meet someone.

DVC: Jesus.

GW: What?

DVC: You want to move to a bigger city because you think this will increase you odds of meeting a potential partner? I tried to engaged you in conversation about something else that might interest you and you just bring it back to finding a partner. Is there nothing else you think about?

GW: Not really, no. Sometimes I get hungry, but that's a fairly easy dilemma to solve. It doesn't take much effort.

DVC: Before our next session I want you to try and find something you are interested in. A sport, playing a musical instrument, anything that exists purely for its own enjoyment, not something that you are interested in solely as a means to find a partner. Can you do that?

GW: I guess so.

DVC: Good. Well, I'll see you next week.

GW: Alright. Bye bye.

DVC: Good luck. [whispers to herself] You'll fucking need it, nutjob.