RonnySimulacrum

As most of you may have noticed the forbidden fruit doco web page has gone missing the last 5 moths or so, well unluckily it got lost dew to a set of very bad circumstances :mad: . Well I still have all the original material but it has to be completely reassembled. What I was hoping is that someone may have saved pages of the site in full that I can get sent to me to help me reassemble the site???? This would dramatically speed up getting it back on line. Any help would be a preheated. Hope to hear from some of you.

Hey there guys Just wonted to let you all know I have added Dale (who runs Oztrance)to the night after he did shuch a good job and had so much fun at Rubys on wed. He will be playing downstairs cutting into some of my time . I will try to keep downstairs open longer so Dale and maybe Morph-man, GusGo LegoH, and sysmix can bang out some tunes each. This should be ok if we have the numbers. Well hope to see you there all :cool:

lsd----- ?

It looks like the meeting will probably be at the home of EARTHPOD (a psychedelic plant nursery in the hills). Pm me if you are interested in coming to the plant gathering on the 24.

See News or info on plant meeting on this date. lot of fun to be had

Cool, was going to Pm you then i read this. There is no door in the normal, sense but I can put you names on a list under my name and it will be $6 on the door. But you will have to pm me the your Full names for the door. This applies for any other plant heads that would like to come. I have already heard from many that have expressed interest and are coming. Will be a good mix of plant heads, Oztrancers, Rainbow serpent Earthcore, a good crowd :D .

You could just try Eating Cs, he will keep you high for weeks, and he is cheep too.

Adrian tried to post this and he could not log in so he sent it to me; Ruby's is a friendly, laid back little "club/ lounge. Here's a review I found on da web Ruby's Review Very short walk from Belgrave railway station. Well worth the trip up from smelly smelbourne I'll be there with (misplaced my bells) something on. Well, finally there seems to be some movement in the Mini Eb camp Tim Adrian and myself are having a meeting tonight to work on an up and coming Mini Eb conference. Will post updates on the subject as we know more. maybe i should do some posting and say it is Adrian, could be fun.

Well, finally there seems to be some movement in the Mini Eb camp Tim Adrian and myself are having a meeting tonight to work on an up and coming Mini Eb conference. Will post updates on the subject as we know more.

Poster up now. As you can see there are some plant friend elements. There should be some SAB and EB heads about.

I gnome that looks like me and lives in my head also seems to get lots of nausea and vomiting with LSA, by it self. The gnome found to except this as part of the experience and not let it bother him, just purge and keep on living. I am not shore witch chemicals are causers the nausea, maybe someone else’s gnomes know what.

Sorry if my comedy has misled anyone. I very much agree that if this hole thing is not organized with tacked there will be problems with it future. I Have only been to Two Mini Eb and they where very intellectual, so we need to maintain that space, not have an event that detracts for already existing expectations. Also as T pointed out much of Melbourne Eb community dues not frequent theses parts and are a separate network. Of which Carl was/is a key player. The best person for the job would be someone how has there foot in both doors so to speak, and tacks the hole thing very serious. I am very willing to help who ever takes the lead in any way possible, to get this day up an running in a mature and learned fashion. Sorry to sound harsh Adrian, but maybe it is time to pull your finger out or pass the buck. no disrespect, but you have not commented on this topic for 6 weeks :confused: [ 21. March 2004, 23:58: Message edited by: RonnySimulacrum ]

Do not blame me for the current would crisis and political upheaval, I Voted M(elbourne)ini EB in the last election :confused:

It seems too me that there is still plenty of interest in a Melbourne Mini Eb, the more people that express interest the grater chance something good will come of this topic. So come on people let everyone know you really wont this to go ahead. Methods of approach :D 1. Take over Ringwood library and stage a lock in until all the other plant heads turn up in solidarity, at which point you will have an M-EB conference 2. Abduct Carl and force him to organize the event, claming that his soul-searching trip to where ever is less important than the collective need amongst plant heads for an M-EB :cool: 3. Fly Tosten, Daniel, Revell and Darklight down to Melbourne and hold a M-EB in the botanical gardens where we all take off our close and smudge Daniels fabulous food all over ourselves and the plants in some satanic ritual. But this may make EB in December up at Byron very repetitious, but I do not mind getting naked twice 4. Force Tim and Adrian to eat Mc Donald’s at gun point until they come up with a workable scenario for M-EB that involves both of them working together to get this thing happening 5. Hold sole candle light vigils in your etheo-garden to honour the M-EB god, hoping he will appease us all and take us up to nirvana for a M-EB Any other suggestions? [ 21. March 2004, 13:43: Message edited by: RonnySimulacrum ]

So did any of you guys cheek out undergrowth? (I know the web page was down for a bit, try again if you had problems) If you haven’t, give it a flick. Would love some feedback.

Is now available for download from http://www.undergrowth.org Sorry for the communication delays folks, ye old editorial team is stretched thin to the point of permanent delerium... anyone wanting to help out on the production side is most welcome aboard! Contact; [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] Website is still wonky in places working on it as we go, but issue #1 is done and ready for your perusal. Spread the word far and wide, Another world is happening. {we live not underground, but in the undergrowth

Thanks Gomaos Yes, your description is just how I wonted the story to feel. Ambient and not human centred, let the environment speak. Yes there are some strange things going on, I do not see the destruction of the cities in a modern nuclear sense. And hell there are three moons, are we on earth, as we know it. Heavy Metal Magazine, you geek Gomaos, I only have one HMM. Not time for a novel, it is killing me just trying to get forbidden fruit out of my way. How is your story coming on? Did you cheek out undergrowth? http://www.undergrowth.org/index.htm

Corrosion Corrosion The morning sun struggles to break through the grey clouds above me. I sweep down through the last trails of smog towards an endless array of blurred and decrepit buildings. I bring the glider up slowly to a flat trajectory so I can take in the view. The city hangs stretched before me, buckled. Dead cars emit a silent hum. I move my eyes along the landscape, unable to push back the feelings of awe and attraction for this tremendously stark beauty confronting me. The energy and barbarism it took to produce such monoliths - now oxidizing with every breath. Entropy is a wondrous process; life and art both found in death. Occasionally greenery penetrates the canopy of rusted metal, weaving towards a scarred sky. I glide in over this once vibrant city centre ? the scavengers violently stripping anything that could be used to lend advantage against the hot wind and harsh surroundings. It is cities just like this that hold most of the survivors of the pre-bio-synthetic human race. The scavengers spend their days appropriating dysfunctional materials to perpetuate their meek existence. Only rarely do I venture down from the mountains into the outer city in search of materials, only under the harshest of weather conditions, when there is little chance of contact. I now cut myself off from what remained of mankind, retreating into the wilderness, into sacred seclusion. I am now interested in observing human decay, but only passively from a distance. I slow the glider down a little and bank hard, circling over what remains of the university and its gardens. I can see so clearly all of a sudden. The aspirations that myself and other student activists held in our youth were only distant dreams. The energy and time we used blockading against the mining and logging companies. The time spent helping the Aboriginals reclaim land from the Averaginals. It all seems so long ago now. We thought we had some control or hold of it back then, a chance to collectively make a difference. The same physical reaction, the forces that created the universe were now being used to destroy it. What part had I played in this? Was I an innocent victim of social conditioning, a subject of fate, or had I actually willingly been involved in the city’s wake. An extreme protester for extreme times. I pull my glider up and out towards the mountains that lie to the north, passing endless streams of rubble that once made up a sea of condos and villas surrounding the city and covering hills. Below hangs what was once the most prized of landholdings in the city. Occasionally on the ground something moves, ducking and weaving amongst the rubble below. Behind me the ocean glimmers like a slowly rippling mirror, melting into the infinite. I pass over what remains of the condos on the hills, into wilderness proper, which surges forward with dense green life. It is like passing over a tidal wave from above - the rampart that separates me from chaos and death. After gliding for a while over the thick green valleys below, I head for my usual clearing on a flat plateau at the foot of a large mountain. Pulling the glider in for a slow swoop, hot air scorches my face as I near the ground, dust lifting up around me as I the earth touches my feet. After a long revitalising meditation in the dense undergrowth and a small snack from the surrounding flora, I set about the ritualistic task of disassembling my glider and hiking with it for five hours up the hill through dense lush forest towards my much loved abode. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The hum of my wind-powered generators breaks the natural ambience as I enter the clearing where my house is erected. In front of me, my house lies encompassed by the canopy of three trees. The sun burns directly above me now, beaming down on my little green house that faces due north in the centre of the small clearing. Off to one side, shaded by an Acacia obtusifolia is my wooden shed, where I often tinker with extractions from the plants cultivated in the garden. The whole setup is designed to fit into the wider, lush cornucopia that encompasses the dwelling, remaining as symbiotic with its surroundings as possible. I place the glider in the shed. Birds return to the safety of the trees, as I head to the natural spring that arises on the northern edge of the clearing, leaning in to refill my canteen and watering apparatus. I take a swig and wipe my forehead with the back of my sleeve. It becomes soiled and saturated. The sun has reached its zenith and is robbing the moisture from my skin. I will not leave the shade of the canopy again today. Doing so would certainly lead to dehydration. My greenhouse is two metres high and four metres long. A wooden ledge surrounds the interior, where plants flourish in their synthesised Eden. I push through the flaps of dirty translucent rubber that serve as an entrance, and a wave of humidity hits me like a wall. The cacti that I grow in the greenhouse - my pride and joy - tend to take prime position. I have always had a soft spot for succulents. Each one has its own name, and I often speak to them at length during my days of reflection. Watering them slowly, liquid drips from the crown of the cactus ebbing silently down the body to the cool, moist earth below. This simple act of irrigation brings me intense joy. I planted several cacti shortly after establishing my sanctuary; and many of them have now earned sacred places in the wider garden. I spend most of my day fastidiously tending the plants and preparing material for extraction. The greenhouse is deliriously hot at this time of the day but I happily linger in the heat. It is a small price to pay. I am covered in sweat and looking forward to a brief siesta in my hammock, nestled between the cool branches within my house. A bird screeches out a distant call as I make my way towards the ladder and up into the tree. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Metal twisting and then liquefying before me, the sky is ablaze, people are turning to ash below. Like dominos the buildings fall before my eyes, clouds of dust and smoke bellow up to high altitudes, curling back upon themselves into the fog of chemical wake. From this height all I can hear is the hypnotic hum of my jet engines. Below, the motion appears noiseless. Recomposing myself, I return to my set course and head for the next city. Awakening in a start, covered in tiny beads of sweat, the hammock swings violently from side to side. As I rise I am aware of the perspiration rolling down my body. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I feel waves of ecstasy wash over me as I watch the shadows of my plants gradually descend across the clearing. Perched on my balcony I can see my entire creation, my sacred space. I have spent years perfecting it, establishing a harmonious balance between nature, myself and the decomposition of the former world. But ultimately only one can win out. The answer is etched in stone. Red clouds slowly part in the night sky, revealing the white glow of Neo, the last of the three moons to form around the Earth. The lunar being travels slowly in a retrograde orbit, baiting the other two moons into thinking for themselves. Seated on my balcony I slowly draw in thick curls of smoke from my pipe, joyfully blowing silver rings, freeing them out into the night. As the evening drifts on, more clouds break, revealing the sky above. Selene, the first moon now appears in view. As the moons drift apart I listen to the sounds of the night creatures, the cacophony of frogs and insects echoes out into the ether. Bats fly over and land above me in the branches of my beloved trees. My attention is suddenly drawn towards the water where an insect buzzes loudly over the reflected moonbeams. The pond flourishes with life, like the cities of old. The reflections of the two moons are blurred abruptly as a frog leaps up into the air to snatch a noisy bug from flight, landing with a disorderly splash. Chaos rules both systems. My wind-powered generator stands inert, silently in the garden, like a barbaric statuette honouring the former times. A bird perches, sharpening its beak on one of the old rusted propeller blades. Entropy utilised constructively before my very eyes. The bird leaps from its perch, circling the garden below, and with a sharp dive, snaps the amphibian from the water and flies off into the darkness. Returning my pipe to my side I take in a big breath of air, smelling the abundant surroundings. Drifting into thought I grin, as all of human history slides back into the catacombs, reducing it to a less than a blink of an eye. Humankind resembles the passing of just another age. Life evolves; reconstituting all matter back in to the eternal cycle. I look back out to the sky, stars glisten brightly. Most of the cloud has cleared and all that remains is the two moons parting the sky like curtains. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The first rays of sunlight are just breaking through the dense grey clouds above. I rise from my bed and head straight outside for a shower. The morning air is cold and fresh, and I take a deep enthusiastic breath, exhaling slowly. Down under the shade of the treehouse, I pull a cord above my head and water falls over my naked body, flowing over me and into the earth; this invigorating act alone prepares me for the day ahead. The city is covered with a heavy fog, not one sign of human settlement is visible above the thick layer of vapour. All I can see from my runway is dense forest cascading down into mist. Beyond, the sea breaks out of the fog and trails into the infinite. I bring my glider up and descend the launch ramp, feeling the air catching beneath my feet. Gliding through the air soundlessly, I clench the guide bar and notice a little discolouring on the metal. Moving my hand over it, I scratch at the rust. It flakes under my nail and falls away into the rainforest beneath. Fully awakened, I float through the cosmos, transcending the semiotic code encrypted in the vista below. Fin Copyright Jonathan Carmichael 04

I think we should get a swap club going, there are some very interesting doco and stuff around, would love to see a trade code established. t st tantra could I arrange a swop for, the art of tripping parts 1 and 2 some of 'the minds eye' pharmacy of the gods comming full circle,plants that heal PLANTS AND MEN-A HISTORY OF MEDICINE fantastic planet,english version Will send you mad Video or $$$. I have some cool docs around here, you may like. Will also send you Mush doco sampler.

I think Adrian had all the intentions of putting something on, and still does. However I am not shore if he was aware that he had the right to. I think he though someone else was also doing something so he kind of pulled of the throttle. If there is not something in the pipe works then I think Adrian would be capable, with a little help form the community. I think we all wont another M(elbourne)ini EB. Ever time i see Adrian he talks about it, but think he needs chat to Tim. They can work together, or at lest establishes which one of them is going to put in the time and effete to get this up and running. [ 21. March 2004, 10:21: Message edited by: RonnySimulacrum ]

mushroom season Duck Season Mushroom season DUCK season

http://www.undergrowth.org a new on line compilation of art, literature and new media /A seed planted long ago is sprouting /Another world is happening/We live not underground, but in the undergrowth Irene Artspace Thurs 4th of March, 7:30 - late featuring: >Multimedia psyence fiction readings rak razam/tim parish/dan(iel) mckinley/john kelly >Resolutionary projections verb/bulb/breez/remix cinema + more. >Biorganik Performances Tin Rant >art exhibitz thin black line/civil/gage/halska >Ambient electronic futurescapes Ronny Simulacrum/Gorgeous Georgeous/Dan(iel) >drinks for sale to soma the soul >food provided by Food Not Bombs ENTRY $5 (includes a free copy of UNDERGROWTH#1 on CD) Thurs 4th of March, 7:30 - late Irene Artspace 5 Pitt St, East Brunswick Melways ref: 29J8

Firstly Gomaos, Thanks for the vote of engorgement, I need that at the moment, have had lots of criticism of my work lately, which is good as wall as bad for me. The major problem I was told (with my above piece, anyway) was that it used the first person pro-nouns to often. Well I still have lots of lesions to learn, but enjoy trying anyway. Just before I start, I would like to add, at the moment I am drinking coffee, groove out to Radiohead and charging my car battery so I can get to work later (maybe I should just ring in sick-I wish). Anyway back to your piece Well I like the idea/concept and the way you have executed it so far. It is political and culturally relevant to today’s struggles, and unluckily almost plausible. Well, one could say most corporations acutely act like robots anyway, if so it is very plausible, if not already happening around us. I love how you have kept it with an Australian feel, I find this is missing from lots of Oz s-f, and that is a shame. We have so much to right about in Australia, and it can come with such a spiritual slant, the dreaming is the best s-f mythology going. Ok so the problem is getting over a hurdle and into the main body/action. Well only you know what the main action is, so I cannot give you that answer, but the trick is to have something in the start be a catalyst for the main action. Whether it is the characters motives or something that happens to him that forces him into soup. Well it goes with out saying that you should finish it. I know that finishing a story is very hard sometimes. If you are like me, you come up with at lest one mad idea a day and we let them just fade away, well some times it is better to force ones self to get down and do a botch job that lose the idea. The best thing to do I think is just keep righting, not thinking to much about looking back and just punch the thing out. Tell yourself that this is just a draft so you are not to hard on yourself, just let go. Then when you have finished, you can make a world of changers, see what works and what is maybe needed, or can be done away with. In the end whether the work turns out like you wonted it to or not, you will have something and gained one way or anther from getting the piece out of you. Well just some comments hope they help some. I LOOK FORWARD TO READING THE FINSHED WORK. Ps I would gladly accept any comments or ideas to help me with a redraft of my pieces. Anyone? [ 02. March 2004, 13:41: Message edited by: RonnySimulacrum ]

too cool for school like the new ones too

UNDERGROWTH ONE: seed a new on line compilation of art, literature and new media /A seed planted long ago is sprouting /Another world is happening/We live not underground, but in the undergrowth Irene Artspace Thurs 4th of March, 7:30 - late featuring: >Multimedia psyence fiction readings rak razam/tim parish/dan(iel) mckinley/john kelly >Resolutionary projections verb/bulb/breez/remix cinema + more. >Biorganik Performances Tin Rant >art exhibitz thin black line/civil/gage/halska >Ambient electronic futurescapes Ronny Simulacrum/Gorgeous Georgeous/Dan(iel) >drinks for sale to soma the soul >food provided by Food Not Bombs ENTRY $5 (includes a free copy of UNDERGROWTH#1 on CD) Thurs 4th of March, 7:30 - late Irene Artspace 5 Pitt St, East Brunswick Melways ref: 29J8