Christopher Pratt (cpratt) wrote,
Christopher Pratt

Tom Ellard speaks

From a few recent postings:

On the Eurovision song contest:

Greece shoulda won damnit.

Those costumes.... those moves ....

On Moby, Kylie etc.:

I'm not sure quite why I am in such a foul mood on this friday night, although all the usual work related stress applies as per usual*. Perhaps it was being repeatedly forced to hear the new Moby album, which is like a series of demos that come with cheap home organs, with some pseudo soulful 'black' bleating occasionally triggered over the top. What a fucking bleak (like a straight road through a desert) piece of pretentious cow pats. It's the sort of bilge that you could shove under your next dinner party if you wanted your guests to further appreciate the fine goat's penis pate. That was followed by one of those compilation albums of pygmies being goosed over some limp wristed drum loops and I guess some of the most tragic sections of it was by Delerium. Which brings shame on all concerned, Leeb, Nettwerk, the whole lot of them suck. A fine counterpoint to the previous evening at the Basement which is an aptly
named venue given the toilet pipes that run along the ceiling, full of salarymens' semi processed long lunch. It had all the warmth and naturalness of every 'Irish' pub that was ever thrown up in Bankok or Vladivostok. And it was like an episode of Cheers, everybody was either in a Sydney Underground Band or was a mate of somebody in a Sydney Underground Band and we were all politely sniffing each others arses in circle like a pack of mutts like we do every time somebody tries to put on a night, talking about our next releases as if anyone outside the sniffing circle fucking cared. And we were all getting ungracefully older, youth presumably at home with a Playstation and a Moby album. I spent most of the night walking around the city looking at the buildings and the neon, avoiding human contact. Today I read that Kylie Minogue was awarded three gongs for her song la la la, la la la la la, la la la, la la la la la. Which was written one afternoon by some people who obviously didn't care much. It's fucking crap. Madonna got a standing ovation from people who paid ten times over for a scalped ticket to a play. Her acting is fucking crap. But success is successful isn't it.

Life's just a big blur of marketing, klez, syndrums and nepotism. I don't
believe in anything right now, I feel like it's all a waste of time. All
that's left is to pull the wool over your own eyes, be proud like William
Blake, but I am just not pigheaded enough to allow that. It's all autopilot.

  • It's July 2013.

    Remember when I wrote a lot on LiveJournal? Yeah, me neither.

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