In The Boganing...

In August, I decided that I needed a change. Not like change my hairstyle or say Im going to join a gym where I actually join a gym and then pay for not using it kind of change, I needed DRASTIC change in my life. So I decided to move to the other side of the country and see what happened. And things have happened and continue to happen, which, for the purposes of a blog, is pretty great. I knew things would be different here, I just didnt expect them to be THIS different. Which is all-at-once great and shit and weird and slightly frightening and hilarious. Because I have moved from the fantastic everything of Melbourne to what is best described as the opposite of art. This is what Im sure was once the promordial pool of Bundy Rum from which crawled the first Bogan. And when it crawled out, it liked what it saw, bought a cookie-cutter house and bred. Or rather, it in-bred. If this is NOT the actual spawning point of Boganistic Culture, and if I wasnt likely to get bashed for mentioning art more than once, I'd say that Boganing here is at least an artform.

It would make an interesting anthropological study, to note the differences between the bogan tribes of the east and west coasts. The main one I have seen so far is the growing of mullets. It's...how do I describe this? They grow them DELIBERATELY.

If they had museums here, but they don't what are ya a bloody poof, I'm sure they'd be studying their earliest ancestor, the first Bogan - "Loosey". How would they identify that this was the first Bogan? Fuck knows cunt, scients or some shit ay. Actually it would probably be a very well preserved site because everything would be covered in chrome. Other clues would be that Loosey's primitive cave would be mostly painted yellow but have a blue feature wall. There would be a massive painting of frangipanis, a "licence plate" ornament that says "I'm The Princess" and an entire area of the cave would have been filled with useless ornaments of frogs or dolphins or some shit Loosey had long-ago decided was her "thing". You know the kind of arbitrary crap I'm talking about; Little glossy statues of frogs smoking, cartoonish smitten-looking frogs holding hands with other frogs while love-hearts bubble around their heads. A frustrated-looking frog sitting behind a computer holding a sign that says "You dont have to be mad to work here DOT DOT DOT but it helps!" LOLkillme. The kind of thing someone can collect for an entire lifetime that does literally NOTHING but take up more and more space in your house but never fill the void in your hollow existence like you expected it to much like any material possession really until you die and your kids chuck it all in the bin without a second thought KIND OF THING. Loosey herself would have been discovered next to a fossilised six pack of Woody & Cola, her matted mullet extensions intact, rudimentary butterfly tat on her hip and the butt of a Winnie Blue wedged firmly between her yellow fossilised fingers. The main hint however, in knowing that this was the birthplace of the Boganic peoples would be the lack of evidence to suggest that this primitive culture ever invented the wheel. No, because they bypassed it entirely and went straight to Mag Wheels. That's right, I'm living in Rockingham, Western Australia.

In case you aren't sure, I have been having an amazing time since I got here. I'm not going to deride everything about the place because some of it is truly awesome. Sure there was a girl and a job waiting for me when I got here and they both instantly evaporated when I arrived but I'll not dwell on them since they are not important. Instead I'll tell you of the other stuff that has occasionally seen me stare, slack-jawed, in amazement. I'll cover things like the job I'm now doing, the comedy and MCing gigs, the wonder of the share-house I'm living in and you'll go with me as I endeavour to find a coffee worth drinking. This is Not Melbourne. But that can be a great thing.