Meet George Doe

While going through that old Livejournal the other night, I rediscovered this picture of me with George W. Bush’s stunt double at 2SER… this was the glory days of APEC 2007; Australia was hosting the APEC gatherings for that year and Sydney was declared the location for Leaders’ Week, when the leaders of the 21 member nations did their particular get-together, and accordingly the old town became something of a police state where the people who actually live here weren’t allowed into our own city. Fortunately 2SER was outside the zone, so we kept going… and that Wednesday afternoon I met the “president”. Flat and lifeless like the real thing, though nonetheless still smarter than the present incumbent. So yeah, there’s me nearly 20 years ago… my beard was controlled and had no grey in it. Hard to believe it is me somehow…

Mandrakery

I suspect most people have never heard of Henrik Galeen’s Alraune, and very few of the folks who have would call it one of the world’s great classics. It’s kind of middling, and rather longer and slower than is good for it. Objectively, it’s good more than it is great. I don’t care about that, though, cos Alraune is possibly the most important film I’ve ever seen, and objecrivity be damned.

So, it’s mid-July 1990. I’ve only recently worked out how to tune the TV to pick up SBS (which only broadcast on UHF). Accordingly,  I’d started looking at the TV guide listings for SBS now that I could watch it. And one week I was struck by the sight from a film apparently from 1927 (in which year it was made, though actually released in January 1928) showing that Saturday night.

What the Christ was a film from the 1920s doing on Australian TV? And who know films were even being made then? Needless to say, I had to watch this thing…

I had next to no real knowledge of cinema at this time. I was 15, rarely went to the cinema, and mostly saw the films I did see on video or TV. As such, I had no sense of film’s history. Before this, I think the oldest film I’d seen was this one, which I think aired one day as a midday movie (remember when the TV networks here still did those?) and I just happened to have the TV on at the time. I do recall in what must’ve been 1988 or 1989 that Channel 7 showed the original Frankenstein, but it was very late at night and at that age late night TV was a bit beyond me. But I did watch the first few minutes and I got a sense something I can only call great age (probably cos Seven were likely showing a ratty old 16mm print they’d had for decades), and that this came near the beginning of something. Hard to explain, but thus it was.

And I wasn’t entirely wrong about that, cos in 1931 Hollywood was still dealing with the introduction of sound technology a few years earlier… but, as I obviously now know better, there’d been this whole world of silent cinema that I was almost entirely ignorant of; I have a very vague memory of seeing a clip of Metropolis before this, but that’s about it. And now there was a film from 1927 on TV. This was almost too much to believe.

And I loved it. I was blown away by its very existence, obviously. I can’t remember the last time I watched, though I did find a very old entry on Livejournal dated February 14 2005 where I wrote about the film cos I was dubbing my by-then kind of elderly recording of it to a better-quality tape, possibly I watched it while doing that. As far as I know SBS never showed it again (I read the TV guides religiously so I would’ve seen it listed if they had), it was too obscure a film to be on video to rent/buy, and even now the only copies of it I can see on Youtube are kind of crap. Full marks, therefore, to Deaf Crocodile for putting out on blu. (Just wish the English subtitles didn’t keep calling Alraune “Mandrake”. I know it’s technically not wrong as such, but I still don’t like it for some reason…)

I wonder, though, how I’d react to it if I were only discovering it now. Probably the way I summed it up at the start of this. Notably, this restoration is massively longer than I recall the film being when I first saw it; I don’t remember just how long that was but I think it might’ve been about 100 minutes. This version is about 134 minutes (not including the opening text on the restoration). It’s a silent film so that may be down to frame rate differences, but I think there’s some actual new footage… but it’s so long since I last it I don’t recall precise details.

As I said, it’s good rather than great. Wiki calls it a “science fiction horror film”, but really it’s more of an erotic melodrama that’s built on Alraune herself being the product of semi-weird science; I actually only got on this viewing just how grotesque the mandrake myth presented here really is. It gets by mostly on Brigitte Helm’s performance in the lead role, otherwise the acting is inclined to ham a bit, and the length is kind of preposterous given the pacing. And I still don’t care.

Because everything followed from Alraune. The initial befuddlement at the idea of a film made in 1927 ignited curiosity in me, I had to know more. First stop was the old Britannica article on film history, then to actual books. Gradually I came to the understanding that film was A Thing that could be and should be taken seriously, it had an interesting history and there was art to it, all of that, and I still had to know more. My horizons suddenly expanded vastly, and they still are. I then discovered you could actually study this stuff academically, and the later result of that was me spending 11 years as part of the 2SER film show. I owe Henrik Galeen a fair bit, really.

1989-90 was a period in which I feel now I was finally starting to come into myself and really discovering things that were mine. I don’t know how else to describe. H.P. Lovecraft put me onto a wider world of books, The Doors put me onto a wider world of music, and Alraune put me onto a wider world of cinema (especially silent cinema, which will always be a major fascination of mine). There were other “important” films I saw for the first time in 1990, but none of them was as big for me as Alraune was. Goes to show you it’s not necessarily the great classics that change everything for you.

Farewelling ’25

So New Year’s Eve rocked. Who could’ve imagined that leaving the house would actually be a good idea? Certainly not me, and yet so it was… all-round good vibe, good crowd (if somewhat smaller than I’d thought it might be), didn’t even have undue problems with taxis either way (though the street closures around Central Station made the return journey slightly more complicated than it was to get there). It was actually worth going out on NYE after all. Maybe I’ll even do it again next NYE, that’s how good a night I was having last night.

And I’m particularly glad I did cos it appears that we all died at midnight:

Click to enlarge the image to full size so you can read the fine print about the UN’s various agendas for the 21st century… on which note, well, the attempt at massive depopulation didn’t really work out, did it? Covid-19 didn’t cause quite the same carnage that the “Spanish” flu did… But yeah, apparently all of us that got THE JAAAAAAAAAAB were supposed to die by NYE ’25, so I presume that, when the clock ticked over at midnight to January 1 2026, those of us who hadn’t already carked it before that finally did so in accordance with the prophecy, and I am now blogging from beyond the grave…

…And no doubt you’ll be amazed to find this is far from the only interesting thing on Jane’s Twatter. Not exactly Holocaust denial per se, but the next best thing… oy.

Anyway, talking of things people post online:

This was posted last by a FB friend who posts quite a lot of this sort of thing, and this one… kind of hit a little more than usual. Cos one part of my evening involved a conversation with Jennie Langton, who’s kind of the current photographer of whatever passes for the goth scene in Sydney (and who took this rather good photo of me), and she was… concerned when she saw me. She seemed to think I’d lost quite a lot of weight. Which I certainly haven’t been trying to do and am fairly sure I haven’t done (if I’m thinning anywhere it’s in the hair department); my gut is sometimes more or less apparent depending on how recently I’ve taken a shit and what t-shirt I’m wearing, but Jennie was really worried about how much she seemed to think I’ve shed… and, well, I found it kind of puzzling cos, apart from anything else, no one ever, you know, says that sort of thing to me. I’m not used to people caring about me that much. The only thing I can think of that I’ve done differently lately has been my diabetes meds, last time I saw the doctor he changed me from the metformin I’ve been on for about 20 years to a somewhat more jumped-up version of the latter called Trajentamet to try bring the old blood sugar down a bit more… and all it’s really done to me is make me sick; as I’ve discovered, vomiting and nausea are known side effects of this stuff, and I was getting a lot of that… so I’ve stopped taking it and had no such trouble since, but even so it shouldn’t have changed me that much. Did Jennie see something I can’t? I don’t know.

And, well, it’s not like Jennie and I actually really even know each other that much. We don’t interact online cos she’s almost never online, and I think the only time we’ve spoken to each other that wasn’t at a club was one night when I’d just left Oxford Art Factory and we passed each other in the street while she was on her way there… that’s about it. But Jennie was worried about me when she saw me last night in spite of all that and she meant it, and she said as much to me, which is more than people usually do (and, again, more than I usually do to others). And it was a bit confusing. And then I got home once I was done, did my first scroll of Facebook for the new year and saw that picture above. And, well, I realised that I had in fact just got kindness from someone right at the end of a particularly infernal year, of a sort that, as I said, I’m not used to… and which, to be honest, I kind of liked and wish I were more used to it. Perhaps if I practise it myself towards others more often? Perhaps I should be a lot less hard on myself than I tend to be? I think I may not practise it towards Jane Orrick, though…

And compensation for it, too

Doggo here seems eminently correct. As one of my Facebook friends noted the other day, he hadn’t seen anyone posting “2026 is going to be My Year” or any of the similar bullshit that people say when the old year is ending and the new one’s about to start once they’ve got over their NYE hangover. Similarly, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone saying what a great year 2025 has been for them personally. Every December 31st I tend to say something about how glad I am to see the back of the old year, and I think this year that is more true than ever, and I just wish I had any confidence whatsoever that 2026 will be an improvement. I’d like to at least be able to say it won’t be any worse than 2025 was, but I fear 2026 will just shout “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” at me and prove me horribly wrong if I do say that… so I won’t. Just in case.

Anyway, unless something astonishing happens in the afternoon that I simply must comment on, I think this might be my last post for 2025 (getting it in during the wee hours of the 31st), because—and I can barely believe it myself—I might actually be going out. Yes, incomprehensible as it sounds, I’ve decided I might actually Do Something for New Year’s Eve this year, which I can only assume is a sign of baffling desperation or of something being wrong me… I mean, a number of things are wrong with me, including mentally, and I will probably end up with regrets if I do go out (which is dependent on me still feeling up to it on the night and taxis being obtainable if I am)… but anyway, that’s where things stand, so this might be my last word here for 2025. Time for bed and hopefully something approximating to sleep…

It’s been a week

Not bad enough that we had the Brown University shooting, the Bondi Beach thing, and the Reiners, on top of whatever other events of this sort that didn’t make the news that I saw, I discovered this week an old school friend and someone I used to know from the goth scene died recently, the former from complications after surgery and the latter “by choice”, which I presume is the latest euphemism… hadn’t spoken to either in years but that doesn’t make the news any less awful. Both of them were younger than me.

So it’s been a bummer of a few days. On the plus side, a friend who had a cancer scare a few months ago just celebrated his birthday yesterday, and though said scare is not quite over (he’s still waiting to find out if he needs radiotherapy) the signs have generally been good. More trivially, Joe finally got someone to mow the back and front yards and trim the bushes out front—nice to be able to walk down the driveway again without being assaulted by the hibiscus—and I got a new blu-ray drive for the laptop that can handle 4K discs and has succeeded in ripping a number of recalcitrant blu’s the previous drive didn’t feel like doing… Miniscule in the grand scheme of things, I know, but I suppose you have to make do with the miniscule things these days.

Cinquante et un

Yeah, your humble scribe is now 51. I am now undeniably in my 50s (I say “undeniably” because the world is full tedious cunts who are tiresomely pedantic about a zero year being the end of the old decade, not the start of the next one, and I hate them; if you are one of them, please go and fuck yourself). Middle age continues. I won’t go over the usual birthday existentialism (“how have I made it this far and why am I still here?”, etc), though I will say I think I’m feeling it more than usual. But this year has been like that, hasn’t it? I’m hardly the only one for whom the state of the world at large isn’t enhancing their wellbeing…

Ooga-booga

…Anyway, that’s me in the early hours of today. Hair unwashed and uneven, and increasing receding from my forehead though still keeping most of its colour, while the beard gets greyer (and it looks even more so in the bathroom mirror), and the black t-shirt has seen better days much like the individual wearing it. Still, could be worse for 51, all things being equal…

Look sharp!

So I socialised on Saturday night, club called Halo, a goth/industrial event that runs as an annual special event out of Oxford Art Factory… found it a bit flat this year, took me an awfully long time to get in the swing of it, and I think it was essentially just further evidence for what I’ve long felt, i.e. that if you can’t drink at a club (and I can’t, not really, and certainly shouldn’t) and can’t dance at it (which activity was always helped for me by alcohol, and which isn’t helped by my body being what it is) and you’re not DJing at it (which I used to, I had two regular monthly slots, but one of those nights ended and I appear to have been surplus to requirements since the end of 2019 for reasons I frankly don’t know), then it’s probably not really a lot of fun, even more so when your camera is frankly crap and you can’t even get any decent photos of the night… a fair bit of effort in my case for not a great deal of return…

…having said all of which, I will nonetheless not deny the skills of the sword swallower, Sian Jackson (one of various additional performers Halo offers); I only wish I’d got a shot of her when she had three swords down her gullet at once, but given how piss-poor most of the photos I took that night were, I’m glad this one turned out acceptable…

Happy 2025, if you’re into that sort of thing

So much for that, eh. 2024 was intermittently amusing, up to the first week of November anyway. I occasionally left the house and turned 50. I’ve noticed that, at least since I was 29, I’ve felt… not really angst or anything at starting a new decade but a sort of fascination, for want of a better word, with the fact that I was at the end of one and about to start the next, and I spent most of the year thinking about it. I did it when I was 29, I did it when I was 39, and I did it when I was 49… and each time, once I’d rolled over into my new decade, I stopped thinking about it. Did it when I turned 30, when I turned 40, and again when I turned 50. I don’t think about being 50 now that I am 50, indeed I almost have to remind myself that I am…

I spent years dreading NYE because I spent too many years thinking I should Do Something To Mark The Occasion and that it was important. One of the good things about getting older is that I have long since stopped feeling that; it has to be something really worth going to the effort of trying to wrangle transport to it and back home again. I can’t even remember the last time I did, though from looking through my old photos it appears to have been ten years since I last socialised at a club for NYE (I see no other NYE-timestsamped pictures after that… I dimly recall my friend Lara driving us there, first to a friend’s place out at Marrickville for their gathering and then to the Imperial where the club was… I think the year after that was the time I went over to Joe’s place for NYE before he moved in here, had an unexpectedly easy time getting taxis there and back, and otherwise I don’t think I’ve been anywhere on NYE since. Part of me misses it, there was a club on this NYE that would’ve been nice, but I no longer feel the need I once did to put up with the probable difficulties I’d have had getting there.

Friend who was out working tonight posted the midnight view from Darling Harbour (where he was working):

Looks delightful but I don’t need THAT shit any more either. Back in 1994 and 1997 I went with a friend to Circular Quay for the 9pm show before we kicked on to other things. Do you know how long it takes a hundred thousand people to evacuate that area once the show’s over? Cos I know better than I’d like. With hindsight I can’t believe I actually did that a second time. It was fun, the atmosphere was pretty good, and I don’t ever need to do it again. In fact, I can barely believe I did it once, never mind twice. But I was so much younger then, and still thought that Doing Something on NYE mattered, and wasn’t smart enough to worry about these things. Doing Something didn’t require the effort or preparation it now does…

Anyway—to bed. I don’t have a lot of optimism for 2025, but I’m assuming the world will still be here when I wake up, so back to normal disservice later. And happy 2nd birthday, blog.

Christmas images 14

A festive image of myself! This turned up in my FB memories the other day… your humble scribe menacing Frank the bouncer outside Tailor’s, the “goth RSL” on Mary St in Surry Hills, for what I presume was the December 2010 edition of Die Maschine. I had no idea how much I needed a photo of me menacing Frank until he insisted upon it being taken (no idea who actually took it but I think it was my camera).