Psychonautical Levitation

Halfway through the Jack Ladder's set a man in his mid-fifties strolled in off the street and offered Kirin a firm handshake in congratulations for his melody, a melody that had sucked people off the street and led them into a dark room with falic appendages and nonchalant youths. The man stayed, swayed. I watched his eyes glaze over and surrender to a brief reprieve from the tethers of suburban life. He had probably been strolling down streets all his life listening out for that one fleeting moment of suspended reality.. and here it was.

Brain Slaves in a fabric factory

As far as I knew we were going to a house party but instead of being greeted by a slandering host there were men in penguin suits spiking the punch and serving us mint flavored gelato. Surrounded by an infinite ceiling and giant swirls of fabric Brain Slaves performed to a crowd of girls wearing heels that could have pierced the concrete. There sound is like Super Quality Velvet, it wraps around you, brushes your skin up the wrong way, makes your senses crawl. When they played Ecstasy the room lost it's gravity, everyone was swept up into a colorful scepter of psychedelic drones and calypso rhythms. My brain was enslaved.

Bronte Beach

Lucy in the Sea with Diamonds

We saw The Middle East try their hands at 14 different instruments including a Lagerphone; if The Arcade Fire and Fleet Foxes had a hoedown this band is what it would sound like. The sound of 612 devoted fans humming along to one of their choruses would have made any sane person run into the ocean bare footed.

You left me.

Hangin’round an empty saloon
Illuminated
In full bloom

I howled for you
You are the moon

Constant revere
Inside my sphere
Symphonies
All I hear

I howled for you
You are the moon

Resting
Inside your lair
Falling

If I dare
to;

Howl for you
You are my moon

The view from my cabin

At night all of the junks turn off their engines. I fell asleep to the sound of the water lapping at wooden planks. White sails overhead. Ghosts, watching over me as I rock the anchor of sleep, refusing to sink into my minds-eye in fear of waking up and never feeling as intensely peaceful as this ever again.

Cheap Thrills and 500,000 dollar bills

The Ceiling Fan and the Flower Shed Their Petals

Luv Suck

The Lumineux Cafe in Phu Nhuan, where you take your lover and leave sweet-nothings lacquered to the wall with kisses. Oh to be young. As she sucks down the strawberries and cream in her milk tea, he looks at her like she's the ice-cream and he's the spoon.

Lumineux Cafe

No she did not conciously wear a navy checkered dress to match the wallpaper or daisy coloured spectacles to match the daisy's.

photo story by Misa Vu

My new Vietnamese acquaintance, Misa, took us to a rock bar in Phu Nhuan called Artwork where you get a complimentary glass of ice tea with your gin, unfeigned table service and you can smoke to your lungs desire. Reggae renditions of Jimmy Hendrix s’ Angel ricocheted off the acrylic furniture and deep into my eardrums; the calypso rhythm and offbeat percussion jigged around in my skull as I sat in silent rapture, brainwashed by a seven-string base. I was like a cobra to the flute.

The sky and I are wearing matching dresses

There is a block of abandoned French Villa's that rest in the underbelly of a shanty Vietnamese suburb called Da Lat. It’s infamous for spooky urban legends. Out of superstition, or burning curiosity, or stupidity, we decided to scale the inside of this nine-story dwelling. Clutching the rusted ladder like drowning rats we inched skyward. I have had my share of rooftops, but this, this was a bird’s eye view that could have wrenched my eyes out of their sockets. I stood, wind blowing past my cheek, mouth gaping, willing to fall and become nothing less than an urban legend.

Debased

Is my head exempt from baptism
am I too selfish for communism
too free for conformism
too tenacious for dualism
too debased for divinism

Is my head wide enough for Taoism
my void deep enough for Buddhism
my philosophy moral enough for Confucianism

Is it all the same lick with a different tongue
Can I have my cake and not eat just one ?

The Peace Keepers

Those beautiful faces will be training to fly helicopters rigged with 30 rounds of ammunition by the time they have finished school. What a wayward world this is.