Mogwai – Ritchie Sacramento
I think I might start posting songs that are for one reason or another important to me. I’m not going to go into why.
I’ll start with Mogwai’s Ritchie Sacramento.
Sticker thoughts
I’ve noticed a shift in the types of stickers that are slapped up in the spaces I spend my time in over the last few years, and it’s made me think of their importance. And in realising this importance, I’ve decided to join in.
Previously, I thought of stickers as a super quick and discreet way for an artist to get a tag or some of their art up on a wall. The chances of being spotted leaving a sticker behind under the palm of your hand is close to zero, and you can prepare them in advance. They’re also not particularly destructive or permanent, so rate less highly on the (my?) vandalism scale.
In the last years I’ve seen an increase in political stickers, and I think they are great. When I move through neighbourhoods and areas I pay attention to the stickers that I see, and their messages. It gives me a sense of the type of area I’m in. I also pay attention to the stickers that have been scratched, defaced, and over-pasted. This also gives me insight.
It’s no secret that I fall on the left side of politics. Proudly. Seeing stickers and paste-ups by the NSN and other right-wing groups, racists, and cookers is upsetting, but they give me an opportunity to show those targeted by these stickers and paste-ups that they aren’t alone. Covering up, defacing, and scratching their hate shows everyone that there are people in the area who are opposed to this. People who will do something.
We had a run of NSN graffiti and stickers in my suburb a couple of years ago – in the lead-up to the last federal election. Stylised versions of their logo. Stickers with white supremacist slogans. They were quickly removed, or covered up, and seem to have lost their resolve when it comes to advertising their existence. At least in this area.
So here’s my suggestion: get some antifascist stickers printed. You can grab some of my designs or make your own. Carry them with you, and if you see something hateful, or want to signal to those passing through that space that they aren’t alone, stick one up.
Below are some stickers that I found around the place. Only in one place did I notice a right-wing sticker on top of a lefty. I’ll start with that one – it was in Trento, Italy.
Another blog
I’ve been running a couple of blogs for a while now, and I have one cycling specific one where I did something particularly fun the other day. I went for a ride with my friend Simon, and while stopped at a cafe, I recorded our conversation. I forgot to bring my list of questions, but it worked out ok in the end anyway – because Simon and I can talk bikes all day.
Why don’t you head over to spokes-person.com and have a read of the interview. While you’re there, subscribe to receive future posts directly in your mailbox.
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Kickboxer: Retaliation
Finally, the last Kickboxer film.
This is probably the least cohesive of the films, and most outlandish. A blinded JCVD trains new-Kurt. Kurt’s girlfriend comes to Thailand and is promptly kidnapped and threatened with sexual violence. Tong-po is now Icelandic.
I can’t express how poor this film is without significant spoileres. But hopefully for your sake you’re not going to watch this.
Kurt dies during the final battle. But somehow he’s brought back to life minutes later with some magic injection into the chest, after which he returns to the ring and fights Tong-po blindfolded for a bit, which somehow makes him better at fighting. Then he removes the blindfold and wins the fight.
It’s dreadful. Don’t watch it. It’s not even fun.
I’m sorry.
The Toast Wall
Years’pon years ago (I’m guessing some time in the late 2000s, as in the decade between 2000 and 2009, not 2999 – language is confusing) some creative genius (according to me, not Art Critics) toasted some 140 slices of toast, bought a tube of liquid nails and stuck a rectangle of toasted bread slices to the wall. I always thought it was delightfully quirky. Confident that it was a transient piece, with toast being both biodegradable and delicious, I felt lucky that I got a chance to see it in its full greige and brown glory.
I didn’t really think about the persistence of liquid nails.
Perhaps the artist didn’t either.
It’s now 2025 and whenever I walk past that wall I see the blobs of liquid nails still on the wall and I’m reminded of the bits of toast that once adorned the wall.
And I like that.
