Aperçus of Entertainment

darling history

Belvedere Jehosophat - Sunday, 21 March 2010 - 01:39:05

“Lesson,” said Noel Coward to Dickie Mountbatten, trying to get his attention. “Lesson carefully, darling...”

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Humphrey B Bear on the loose, pantsless and destitute

Ethan Switch - Friday, 24 April 2009 - 20:07:42

On the run with no pants and no shirt, slippery is the bear unable to utter a self-incriminating word and without a place to call home. Tales of bankruptcy, shilling and going underground lie in the wake of wrapping up Banksia Productions. The owner and stable of Humphrey B. Bear, among other lesser cause-noting properties, done in by the South Australian Supreme Court.

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Things got strange sinking from the bottom down

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 28 February 2007 - 13:18:04

Snails in the drop and the black pot, from where nobody knows as it appeared one day with a mint leaf jammed between the handle and the lip, bubbles with a marshmallow looking skyward. Out from the depths of the boil and soft shimmer, the white molten folds fold over and in. Not enough to ball up into the snack which makes rival of an amputated leg. Sweet juicy morsel of meat as it is.

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Gates of the cemetery on Tuesday

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 21 February 2007 - 13:51:14

On Wednesday they gather round and run the walk. Everybody, everywhere and nobody going nowhere. There's a destination ahead, but no lights to lead the path. Trailblazing is for the blind.

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Tiny drops on the windshield

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 14 February 2007 - 13:52:07

Speckles of dust hit the pane and roll off down in with the rest of the rain. Rivulets snowball with sand salts, scratching at the glass with the kind of stroke a deaf mute pays attention to.

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Bright blessed days and dark sacred nights

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 7 February 2007 - 13:58:22

Run for cover. Night descends quick with the passing light falling across the walls of the cave. Fingers touching candles, with the aim of bringing in the dark, feel the burn of absence that lies between the tips. Controlling destiny? A sleight for sore hides.

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Down the sidewalk first thing tomorrow

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 31 January 2007 - 13:30:11

Crumple up the knees, leeches are on the left nostril and working their way back into the right ear. Batting does no good as half of the pain is imaginary. And as all gnomes know, there is nothing more wretched than the imagination. Gnomes, apparently, sprout up in the most moist gardens of all places. An appearance in the bare scratch that lies the plains is most obscene for the scene of pale green.

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Future head borrowed a gun, refused to die

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 24 January 2007 - 13:51:49

Drool hardy, drool fast and drool with the intent to peer back into the swill of the past. For the fermenting is all that the saliva will come good for and there is nothing that sweat will break. Stew it broken in the broth made with the wings and legs of the birds captured by the sun. Tasty is their meat, wretched be the beaks that jam in and craw a crow call.

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Dream a thousand times of a smiling immortality

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 17 January 2007 - 13:57:31

Beauty is in the eye of the tiger balm. Mysterious concoction made not from the gristle, gargle or fat of tigers, but of other, more mundane ingredients. Such as a sniff of intensity, burning desires and a spread of concentranlasted heat.

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Articles and essays

Red Riding Trilogy
This is an attempt to understand the newish British television series Red Riding. Due to the regional accents, the muttering, the byzantine plot, and that British inability to provide subtitles, I am writing a detailed synopsis to get my head around this excellent television show. In short, it is nothing but spoilers, spoilers, spoilers...
Kitchen Antics - Chicken in Faux Ragoût
Ladder of flavour? A few rungs above bland. This can be constructed & delivered in less than 30 minutes, depending on your aptitude with a knife.
Lassitude abandons the Throwing Knives
Down on the chamber pot, the percolating smells brew up quite the nasal fest. From the wafting fumes, the air solidifies partial sweaty rock and musty punk, a taste hinting at delicious pockets of after-aftertaste, and the not so floral punch of an undone music interview leaves the tongue wanting something else.

Undone, unbound, the sounds aground, life's taking the train with a soundtrack of harmonic dissonance, of inner turmoils and evolutionary spotchecking.

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