This August, celebrating ten years since the original event, psytrance freaks swept into the field of dreams known as the Ozora Festival, the international psychedelic trance event in Hungary. The organisers and their friends know how to hold a party, with a great venue and production qualities satisfying the large numbers of participants descending on this green farm site near the town of Ozora a couple of hours out of Budapest, surely one of Europe’s most charming cities. It was one of the best psychedelic trance line-ups to date.
Chaos Engines arrow | 1:27pm, wed 17 aug 2005 | Tokyo Technopolis
reprinted from Undergrowth #7 - Nomadology - http://www.dislocated.org/nomadology/book.php
So I met this character in Darwin in January claiming to be running some kind of underground magazine or something, says he’s just set up a new part of it; travelling blogs, nomadic style. Said I might be interested. I was, but it’s taken me a good few months to get my shit together to contribute to this li’l thing. Let me tell you why.
I’m a teacher, apparently. At least, I’ve instructed no less than eight classes of students in the last week. In every village, the English teachers lie in predatory wait for foreigners. If I get seen, they grab me by the arm, drag me into class, plonk me in front of the students and say, “Mister Dan, would you please tell my students why English is such an important language.” Hum.
By the end of the week, I am beginning to get shirty with the procedure, in particular with being detained for many hours on the pretext of dropping by for a few minutes. Gotta learn to stop that. But it’s hard to find reasons to say no, I’m sorry, I know your school is underprivileged, but I would rather drink avocado smoothies and hang out with my art school mates on the lawn. The flattery helps, too. Nothing fluffs up the old ego like being needed. Look at me ma, I’m making a difference. And so it continues.
Booty Dancing and Petroleum Dreaming Verb | 10:35am, Fri 23 Sep 2005 | Gunbalunya, Arnhem Land
Bam bam bam chk bam bam bam bam bam chk (repeat).The eighties hardcore techno track ‘Here’s Johnny’ pumps from the Blue Light Disco’s sound system of the youth centre as we enter through the roller doors. In front of us, the concrete dance floor is packed with waste-high kids bumping and grinding their little bums to the beat. The girls stand with their feet firmly planted on the ground, ass out, hands on knees in controlled motions. Some of the boys are more radical, busting out electric waves and robot breakdancing moves.
Poet, Fool or Bum? Miss Sometimes | 2:21pm, Sun 29 Jan 2006 | El Paso, Texas
An endless day. Crampy greyhound sleep interlaced with heavy Texan accents and five am McDonalds breakfast stops that seemed unfair to count as beginnings or endings. El Paso bus station at around midnight seemed to be the maddest, baddest, saddest place we could lay our America-fresh eyes upon. A thick ‘n’ rich jungle of stereotype. A woman with terrible skin covered in skin-coloured paste, wearing teddy bear pyjama pants and clutching a blankie, huddled on a seat nearby. A woman wearing a leather stars’n’stripes ‘Support Our Troops’ jacket, crouched strange, cat-like in an unused corner. Several obese young men staring deadly at anything but their own souls, fat cheeks pushing fat lips into a sad pout. An ultra-trash young couple came in bitchin’ loudly, making a beeline for the row of personal coin operated TV-chairs. I heard another lady confessing she didn’t know where she was going, but she was going somewhere.
(The names in the following piece have been changed)
In a 2000 interview, former UNESCO director, Federico Mayor asked Fidel Castro what he believed would occur in Cuba after his death. The leader maintained that the present system would continue without disruption.
¨I did not inherit a position, and I am not a king. Therefore, I do not need to prepare a successor… There will be no trauma, or the need for any kind of transition.¨ Naturally, Castro´s position and the official position are one, however, in the same breath, the President also downplayed his own importance within the Cuban political apparatus.
¨When a genuine revolution has been consolidated and when ideas and consciousness have begun to bear fruit, no human is indispensable, no matter how important his or her contribution may have been. There is no cult of personality in Cuba.¨ Any person who has spent even a few hours in the country will know that the final statement is either a lie, or a monumental delusion.
In Darwin there are no waves, except for during cyclones. The ocean is most often a calm, undulating, flat bed of water. A zen landscape. Instead of surfing, people float here, buoyed by the salt water, disappearing into the sky above.
Tim Parish 2005
Nightcliff Beach, Darwin