You Are A Radar Detector

I wish I had a camera like this.

Ruby Moon

Ruby Moon is set in the wake of the disappearance of Ruby, a 10-year-old girl who went to visit her grandma one day and never came back. It tells the story of her parents, Sylvie and Ray, and how they live after she has gone.

Georgia Symons directs Pollyanna Nowicki and James Shepard in the upcoming production of Ruby Moon. It begins on the 17th June at the Seymour Centre.

Buy tickets here

Jesus Died For Somebodies Sins But Not Mine.

Patti Smith has published a memoir, Just Kids, about coming to New York City at 19 and meeting famed photographer, Robert Mapplethorpe.

The book is framed by Mapplethorpe's death but delves into Smith's origins. There are flashbacks from her childhood, "vague memories, like impressions of glass plates".

At 19, Smith fell pregnant to a 17 year old boy. She was forced to give her baby away but swore to become a great artist in the memory of her lost child.

Mapplethorpe is renowned for his iconic image of Patti Smith which later became the cover of her debut Horses.

Smith was a factory worker, writer, journalist and performance artist before she became a musician. Her music conveys a wealth of experience and an aching rawness, making her one of the real rock stars of the seventies.

She is known today for her opposition to the Iraq war and political commentary. Here's what she said about Guantamano Bay:

"I wrote both these (protest) songs directly in response to events that I felt outraged about. These are injustices against children and the young men and women who are being incarcerated. I'm an American, I pay taxes in my name and they are giving millions and millions of dollars to a country such as Israel and cluster bombs and defense technology and those bombs were dropped on common citizens in Qana. It's terrible. It's a human rights violation."

Favourite tracks: Gloria (the opening line is "Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine") and Because The Night.

Cambodia Childrens Trust

Tara Winkler is an amazing and inspirational young woman. At twenty three, she has established an orphanage in Battambang, Cambodia to save children from a life of abuse and neglect.

This girl makes you reassess yourself and your own life. If she can do something so life changing, why can't I?

Tara Winkler enjoyed a wealthy upbringing in Bondi, Sydney. However, after a holiday to Cambodia she gave up her life in Australia to help orphans.

The passion to help these children comes from part of Tara's history. Her grandmother was a survivor of the Jewish Holocaust. She believes that helping these children is no coincidence.

Their parents were victims of Pol Pot's horrific regime and they have endured the long reaching consequences of his decision to bull doze Cambodia and start from the 'year zero' in 1975. He imposed agrarian collectivization which resulted in slave labour, malnutrition, execution and the deaths of an estimated 1.7 to 2.5 million people, approximately 21% of the Cambodian population.

Tara has created the Cambodian Children's Trust. In order to survive, the orphanage must raise $50,000 a year.

She intends to transform the orphanage into a sustainable "eco-village". She plans to spend five years and $2million introducing development projects that will enable the orphanage to support itself.

Her designs include buying a 40-hectare plot to establish a plantation as well as a fruit, vegetable and herb permaculture garden.

A medical facility, animal clinic, education program and English school are in the works.

See more at http://www.cambodianchildrenstrust.org/.

My Baby Monkey

So you get home from work, pissed off and in the mood to sit down and watch anything (except cricket). Do you want some serious trash television to melt your brain into shit so you don't have to think for a while?

My Baby Monkey is your perfect solution.

My first thoughts upon seeing this show? What the fuck. It is exactly what it sounds like. People who keep primates as pets, making them their babies in the place of human children.

This would be my worst nightmare. Monkeys are really, really naughty. And unlike actual children they don't understand when you say, "Don't shit on the couch". I held a monkey once in Thailand. His name was Bobo or Coco or Robo or something. I felt really sorry for him. Basically some dude just carried him around all day, making him sit on the shoulders of strangers for money. Of course when I saw the monkey I had to have a photo. But it was really uncomfortable. He kept crawling around my neck and grabbing at my hair, and his claws were sort of sharp. I'm pretty sure he was sedated. He had this weird, stoned monkey look about him.

So you're thinking, what freak would treat a monkey like a child? What kind of sad weirdo would buy their monkey CLOTHES and feed them BIRTHDAY CAKE and give them XYLOPHONES and fucking Barbie dolls?

Lots. And they're not necessarily mentally unhinged.

At first I was making fun of these "monkey parents" then I saw that most of them had been real mothers and fathers. Their kids had left home to go to university or get married or simply just to fuck off somewhere else. The mums are left with a photo album of memories and an empty house.

"It drove me crazy," one monkey mother said, "The house was empty. All five of my kids had left because they didn't want me in their lives anymore. They thought that I was pain, that I was horrible and mean. But I all I ever wanted was to be a mum. I became so depressed that I had to go to hospital for three months. But then I got my baby (monkey). Shes never going to leave home and go to college or get married. She'll stay with me forever."

However, this is unfair for the monkey. It amazes me that they live as long as they do, with their owners stuffing them with chocolate and donuts. NOT MONKEY FOOD.

Watch clip here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uP4k1imPy54

Jane, you silly bitch.

I got on the bus one morning and saw Jane. She was crying.

“What’s wrong, Jane?”

“I did something very stupid.”

Again?

“I decided to meet with someone for a drink last night. And that person is not someone I should be meeting for a drink.”

I was mildly intrigued. Jane’s misfortunes often entertained me.

“What is it with older men?” She asked me.

“Older men?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and let forth a cavalcade of emotion.

It was like I was inside her head. There was shit piled up everywhere, spilling onto the squishy, pink floor of her brain. There was no use trying to navigate through the mess.

“Naively, I assumed that it was an entirely platonic interest. My gut feeling should have told me. But ahead I went. And what did I really expect? I feel so embarrassed. I was slightly frightened. And I really do not like being scared. He actually sang to me. He kept touching me. Kissing my hands. Trying to dance with me. Every time that happened my mind froze with fear. I was beyond uncomfortable. I was paralysed with shock.”

She pushed her long, ratty hair away from her face and sighed.

“This man is 44 years old. And I am 21. He is more than double my age. What was I doing?”

“I don’t know, Jane. I wasn’t there.”

“He wanted to kiss me.” She continued, “He wanted to do a lot of things, I could tell. But I got so scared that I insisted upon leaving. I only went back to that share house to smoke his stash because I thought there would be more people around. He made it sound like that. He brought me a rose in the shop. That terrified me. Especially when the other customers looked at me. I could tell what they were thinking.”

You whore?

“He told me that when I touched him on the hand once, all of his hairs stood on end. The things he was saying about my dress and my skin and my body and Christ it makes me cringe. I can’t even open my eyes if I think about it, it is just too embarrassing.”

And yet her eyes were open, staring into my face for some kind of validation. She wanted me to say everything was all right, that she wasn’t a whore. But I didn’t say anything.

“I don’t know why I found it so intensely mortifying, but I did. I hate the attention. It makes me feel silly and self-conscious. There is a part of my brain that obviously doesn’t mind it. I think I am half crazy sometimes. I read in the paper that your brain does not mature until your mid twenties. What’s your honest advice?”

“Just tell him to fuck off.”

“I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

Jane, you’re an idiot.

“Well, this is my stop,” I said cheerily. (I was actually still three blocks away from my destination.)

Jane looked at me forlornly.

“See you later,” she called as I stepped off the bus and into the rain, glad to be away from the girl who never knows how to say ‘no’.

So good, it may just be your last resort!