Watched a trailer in the cinema about a new movie by Rob Marshall. Wondered why it looked like a musical 81/2, Fellini’s film. So checked wikipedia and learned that you’re gonna see this below, played by Fergie.

Just for the record, I find Fergie hugely unattractive. Man jaws and all dat. The film is actually based on a musical that’s been around since 1982 which came from a play inspired by 81/2. Also, Daniel Day Lewis is gonna be Marcello Mastrioanni. I’m trying to be really snide as well if you can’t quite read that through the soullessness of the internet.

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Augh, why do cute little girls grow up? I mean, uh. Man, Chris Bailey cuts a trench like the best huh? Yea um. Dat.

How divine would it be to be able to dine on prized delicacies from another era? Tudor style Frog Blancmange? Alice in Wonderland inspired 5 flavor drinks? Medieval style Bull’s testes? Absolutely mar-vellous darling.

At least that’s what celebs on Heston Blumenthal’s latest telly show on UK’s Channel 4, Heston’s Feasts would have had. Beyond the outrageous unfood-food that he puts on the menu, is his very logical and methodical approach. The feast is a reimagining of what people would have eaten way back in the day during Tudor/Roman/Medieval/Victorian times. His research is based on facts, actually reading through dusty old tomes and then reconstructing the dishes in his own way. Some of the dishes, like the 5 flavored drink, are completely original but he brings this magical, fairytale esque idea into the mix. Combined with his mad scientist presentation, it all falls into place. This guy’s mind is brill.

Just so you know, real bulls (probably post mortem but I’m no expert) had their testes cut off, which were then cooked sousvide before sliced open and restuffed and made to look like a plum. A bull’s plum pretending to be a plum is a plum tart in my book.

*Disclaimer* Not for the squeamish or males. Highly recommended if your idol is Lorena Bobbitt.

I liking gurl singers right now. Not sewing machines mind. Blonde Redhead, Asobi Seksu, Bat For Lashes, Camera Obscura, Fever Ray, Ladyhawke, Metric, YYY’s… heck, even Royksopp put out an album fulla chicks putting hot air in a mic.

We shud celebrate this with some videos!

Poor Natasha Khan gets molested by people wearing black boobie shaped balloons on their heads in what looks like Maarten Baas’ studio. At least this time she dumps the bike and gets to drive. This indie chick is clearly moving up the social ladder. This track is actually dedicated to The Karate Kid. I kid you not.

Next up is Kazu Makino’s ode to the 23 enigma set to some dreamy swarthescapes. The Redhead have a new LP coming out soonish.

Now we have Tracyanne Campbell going on about some fella from the French Navy. Its got like 2 chords and the verse and the chorus is like the same but its hella breezy.

Karin Dreijer Andersson scares me when she sings but her amazing “hipster shaman chick who ran through a forest in the fall and got attacked by wolves” look really enamours. I also would like to state my disappointment after waiting 4 minutes to find that she doesn’t get into the pool in that vid.

Welcome back 1980s. I missed you. Phillipa Brown talks about Paris burning as she vamps along looking slightly awkward in a Snoopy tee as she gets variously assaulted by feathers, a drunk, sparks and silver flaky stuff. There’s also a wolf! Probably the one that got Karin from before.

Here’s another Japanese babe in a band. Yuki Chikudate alternating between her mother tongue and mine. Um. I meant English.

I tink Sydneyside needs moar gurls lyk deez.

Its probably best to sit through Alejandro Jodorowsky’s films and not think too much, but that’s something that I just can’t seem to do. Watching The Holy Mountain had my mind racing through every scene, bewildered at the subject and absurdity of it all but also marveling at the visual aesthetic beauty before my eyes. It didn’t make any sense and probably wasn’t supposed to anyway but its a mindfuck nonetheless. I can see why John Lennon was so up on this shit he had Allen Klein fund Jodorowsky for this. Epic is one way to think of Holy Mountain.

The Alchemist as the film opens.

The film is sort of based on a book by Rene Daumal, Mount Analogue and takes the basic framework of a pseudo spiritual ascension up a mountain and the travails that follow it. The start of the show plays out like some sort of psuedo allegory to the last days of Christ almost. It focuses on a single, barely dressed man (The Thief) who befriends a limbless dwarf and proceeds to try to make a living in the city, presumably somewhere in South America. Because he looks like the stereotypical image of Christ, some fat dudes dressed like romans decide to get him drunk and proceed to make a mould out of him to make Christ figurines for profit. The Thief wakes up mad, smashes some fake Christs and then goes on some kind of last walk, carrying one fake Christ like a cross as he gets followed by a bunch of prostitutes, one of them with a monkey in tow. He then gets into a quarrel of sorts with a priest and gets chased away. Respondent, he then turns to eating the wax figurine he had been carrying, before he floats up on balloons that appeared outta nowhere.

After his ascension, The Thief spots a huge tower and gets inside, intent on finding its secrets. There he meets The Alchemist, played by Jodorowsky himself in some Shinto X frute swag attire. They fight but The Alchemist keeps winning. He then decides to take The Thief on as a disciple and introduces him to 7 other people, with whom they would ascend the titular Holy Mountain in order to ascertain the secrets of the gods. Each one of the 7 is a certified asshole, including war mongerers, moguls and politicians. They train together in preparation for the ascension, going through trial after trial, in the hope of achieving immortality.

The Alchemist & The Thief: Not a Stereophonics song.

Eventually, they leave for Holy Mountain on a boat, get sidetracked by a mad place called the Pantheon Bar, which is filled with people who got distracted from the ultimate goal of climbing to the mountain’s peak, where it is said, a group of 9 wise men reside. The group’s plan is to usurp the power the wise men have and they get the fuck out of the bar, proceeding through more trials and tribulations, both mental and physical until they finally get to the summit.

By this point, my eyes were slapped by a myriad of unbelievable images. One sideshow has geckos dressed in traditional Aztec garb getting attacked by frogs, representing the conquistadors. They fight in a scale model city before everything gets blown to bits. Another scene has got policemen in gas masks dancing with commoners. There’s also a scene where The Thief defecates into a container and The Alchemist turns it into gold. Yet, Jodorowsky keeps even more up his sleeve by the time the film reaches its conclusion.

A naked woman stimulating a robot with a phallus until it experiences an orgasm of noise and movement.

Compared to El Topo, The Holy Mountain is similar in that both films are allegorical, symbolical, pseudo religious, trippy hippy films. Yet, El Topo could respectfully contain a narrative almost. The Holy Mountain has such a loose narrative, with each portion of the film almost seemingly its own story almost. Its supposed to be one complete journey but you end up going everywhere else instead. Which I suppose ultimately relates to what Jodorowsky was getting at towards the end.

Maybe there is a Holy Mountain. If I could find and ascend it, I might attain some kind of immortality or superpower. Or maybe there isn’t and there’s nothing to gain in the first place. Maybe all I’ll gain is knowledge, that I was a fool to begin with but the journey was still a beautiful, memorable one.

I haf to say, Miranda Kerr is hawt fiyah, just the right mix of elegance, girlishness and sex. This fansite has the bees knees on Sydney’s pride and joy.

On all the fashion forums, there’s always the what are you wearing today thread, where you post your own fits and check out everybody else’s. Lookbook.nu is all about encapsulating that idea and making it in a clean, searchable index sort of format, where registrants can log in and rep people. Another nice feature is the ability to link the items in your fit in a clean manner on the pic itself.

Its a pretty good resource/style guide and I’d say a lot of the fits are quite good. Most people on the site seem pretty fashionable but you can easily pick out the gems. Some of the photography is excellent and also most importantly, at the end of the day, there’s some hot chicks there hehehe.

Mmm… soft white buns and bunnies. I like how there’s like a hole where they inject the sesame into the bunnies and it looks like a nipple. And how the buns have that little tip that looks like tone on tone nipple.

The last time Sofia Coppola got together with Kirsten Dunst, it was Virgin Suicides. Which happened to be a really wonderful, beautiful little film about girls killing themselves. They got back together for the biographical film on the famously beheaded former empress of France, Marie Antoinette. Which happens to be really languid and rather boring, almost facile. I guess it was more of a “oh look, here’s a poor little rich girl trying hard to find herself” story. It seemed to really empathize with the supposedly decadent side of the empress and hardly bothered about the trivialities like her spending away the country’s money.

The movie was really slow and seemed disconnected with all this wonderful post punk/new wave stuff that was on the soundtrack. It all sounds great but doesn’t seem to move in tandem, even if particular themes are similar. It just felt very poseur almost, like hey, let’s throw in some really good music to distract people from the shitty script.

But I’m not too bothered. I just spent my time staring at the wonderful costumes and cleavage. And this lovely shot of Ms. Dunst without the silly costume. Which begs the question why Jason Schwarztmann took like a few years to bone her.

Saturday was the annual Mardi Gras in Sydney, where float after bus after van after truck after dancing contingents after Harleys and geriatrics rode/strode down Oxford Street. The above pic shows 3 scantily clad male dancers backlit by a LCD screen that had my female companion drooling. Too bad for her they’re gay.

One thing I’ve come to learn in Sydney is you don’t really need a reason to party. Thousands of natty kids went in their droves, adding to the spectacle itself and making it one big theme party replete with Pink Australian flags and a lot of shit beer.

I have to say its quite amusing watching wave after wave of gays, lesbians and transsexuals do their thing on a really long runway, pouting and blue steeling at every opportunity for hours. Backed by thumping gay house anthems, I was at once aghast and animated at the sight of fat titties jiggling around everywhere, of both the female and male variety. Much respect to all these peeps for standing up for what they believe in, regardless of if they look ridiculous in skin tight spacesuits that hug their lovehandles or not. They hammed it up every chance they got. There were grown men dressed as flowers, a Britney Spears themed group complete with papparazzi, dancing nuns & popes, gold dust flecked Balinese dancers. We also got to see the famous “dykes on bikes” as well as gay footballers dribbling. The Police, Ambulance and Fire Brigade also got in on the act as well as a few companies like Ikea and Virgin Blue with a semi adspot of sorts.

Ok, so a few “corporations” made it feel a little commercialized. Add to that the sudden springing up of hot dog (rather poignant) stands along Oxford, people selling stools and an influx of Asian tourists (like me) and it might have just felt a twinge like it was just a big show with fancy costumes. Still, the biting Australian humor that marked every placard was on show, plain for all to see. With all the frank and uninhibited Oz sensibility on display, I’m pretty sure the message got across.

All in all, a spectacle that truly showed the diversity of human life, the richness of our imagination and a great sense of fun. Definitely one for the calendar.