After much introspection, I have found a void in my existence: The lack of a Tumblr. On one hand it could be considered "cathartic" and I suppose to some extent, that is true. But, let's be honest here: ultimately this serves as a solipsistic flood-of-consciousness account in which I can engage in every form of self-centered whining and babbling possible. A new level of procrastination. Hurray!

Should anyone wish to bear witness to this, then it would be in your best interests to follow me and this ever-running, half-baked soliloquy. The occasionally well-spoken sermon mad-man. The silvery song of a laryngectomy patient. The poetry of an illiterate troubadour. The dulcet tones of all Sigur Rós songs sung in hopelandic. I could at least post this in the hope that even in the absence of all tenor and logic, it’s at least pretty to look at...Like me...

…The fuck?

So, this is the first time I log into Tumblr after a while (years in fact). My profile looks rather FUBARed… *Sigh*




  • The state of being after having had gravity get the best of you. Basically being pwned by gravity (Eg. falling over).

Example Usage: 

Person 1: “Argh!”
Person 2: “What?”
Person 1: “I just fell over. It really hurt.”
Person 2: “Haa! You got Newton’d”
Person 1: *Glare*

ORIGIN: Modern (2011). “I was at a family function at a small pub in the western suburbs of Melbourne when I witnessed a toddler lose its balance, fall to the floor and let out a loud holler grabbing the attention of the nearby clientele. In my dark sense of humour, I said the first thing that came to mind: “Ha! That kid got Newton’d”. That was when Newton’d was born.” - Kevan Atkins

Swearing by our Civil Liberties

I know it has been a while since I last posted on here but I feel the need to vent.

Recently, state government legislation has been introduced that allows members of police force to issue on-the-spot fines of up to $240 for using “offensive language”. That’s right folks, you can be fined for swearing. While I’m not a particularly nationalistic person, I have always been of the opinion that Australia is an incredibly lucky country, particularly with regard to freedom that Australian citizens have been given, but recently I have felt that our freedom has been impinged on.

Laws regarding offensive language are nothing new. The Summary Offences Act 1966 (Victoria) and Summary Offences Act 2005 (Queensland), both contain laws that cover swearing in public. However, a summary offense is still heard by a judge or magistrate, but with no jury. The acts state that language that is disorderly, offensive, threatening, indecent or violent, is considered offensive language, but at least the defendant is given a fair trial. In fact, in Queensland under the act, a defence could be made if the defendant can give a “reasonable excuse”, so there was opportunity for someone to contest the charges. However, with these new laws, any process of justice is taken completely out of the equation and it is purely at the discretion of the officer issuing the fine.

We’ve all be confronted by the sort of twee lunatics who think swearing is indicative of a poor education or a poor vocabulary. They also may say that it’s unnecessary as though that’s enough of a reason not to do something. It is quite often that which is unnecessary that is the spice of life. It is the unnecessary that carries us between all of the banal necessities of life. It is the unnecessary that keeps us sane and we need our sanity, ergo that which is unnecessary is in a way necessary.

In fact, I believe swearing is a very important of our language. Swearwords are some of the most loaded and emotive words in our language. To relegate these words to just being vulgar and nothing is a profound insult our language. There certain characteristics to words like shit or fuck that give them their uniquely cathartic quality. There are times when words like sugar, fudge or custard simply will not cut it! Dessert items will not stop someone from caressing a stranger’s temple in a pub with the full force of their fist. I would rather be called a fucking cunt than spend the night in the hospital. Furthermore scientific studies have shown that swearing helps us cope with pain. My point is we need to swear

I am not saying that it is okay verbally abuse people, but this law gives police officers the authority to penalize people for what they feel is “offensive”. This may or may not include some of the more benign words like damn or crap. As everyone’s definition of offensive is coloured by many factors including religion, culture and values, there potentially exists a yawning gulf between each officer’s idea of what is offensive. These fines are on-the-spot, so offenses are not subjected to the scrutiny of the courts, which means fairness goes right out the window. This new power given to police officers is sure to be abused. What’s to stop an officer from issuing an on-the-spot fine for saying “shit” if you trip on the curb just because they’re in a bad mood? Nothing! Are we being robbed of some of our freedom? I think so. Orwell would be rolling in his grave.

I say “fuck that”. That’s my two cents.

If you have your own two cents that you would like to contribute, click “reply”.

- Kevan Atkins

Selling my guitar

Since I’m selling Ophelia (my guitar), I figured I’d record it one more time. So I improvised this weird soundscapy piece over three tracks using only the guitar and a few effects. There are no edits and it was all recorded and mixed in about 20 minutes. Here it is; warts and all! [Note: If you can’t see the Soundcloud box, just click the little square ;-)]

The Parting Words Of Ophelia by unclewalter


Thom Yorke  beating out a samba 

Well, my life is complete.

(Source: ppublicpervert)

I absolutely love this show.


A solipsistic, online stream of consciousness account designed exclusively to propagate every banal detail of the lives of teenagers and people with low self-esteem…Much like this Tumblr…


The Antlers at The Corner Hotel

One of the best live shows I’ve ever seen. I arrive about an hour after doors opened, put my nice little earplugs in and was greeted by the awesome harmonies and cool textures of the five piece Sherlock’s Daughter. I found myself enchanted by their music, and even more so by the gorgeously outlandish front lady, Tanya Horo who had me transfixed as she pulled many wonderful shapes with her voice, guitar, rack tom and her little keyboards right before my eyes. It seemed that there were few there to see the support act so I went ahead and found myself an awesome spot right up the front, in the centre where I surprised to see Ryan. I thoroughly enjoyed the remaining half of their set and am definitely keep an eye out for any more gigs they may have coming up.

After a short interlude, the co-headlining trio Bear In Heaven came on and played their set, which was also enjoyable, though not to the extent that Sherlock’s Daughter was, but still pretty shweet. Their musicianship was certainly impressive, especially as they managed to pull such a big sound as just a trio. By about half way into the set though, I was beginning to become annoyed by one particular fella who had his arm between Ryan and I gripping onto the stage while nudging my elbow occasionally. It appeared that he was trying to surreptitiously pry open a spot for him and his girlfriend, but I just happily ignored it and continued grooving along. I occasionally copped the odd bit of spit and sweat from frontman Jon Philpot when he would lean into the crowd, at one point he was about a metre away from my face and I could hear his voice directly more than the on the PA. I occasionally caught a glimpse of Peter Silberman from The Antlers side stage sipping away at his wine, which was pretty exciting. The set ended and I turned around to find the room packed with people.

As anticipation was building for The Antlers, the previously mentioned elbow nudger piped up and asked Ryan to open up a spot and Ryan happily obliged. Ryan and I got to talking with this guy and his girlfriend. In the time between Bear In Heaven and The Antlers, this guy talked a lot about his travels around Europe, literature (he apparently got a 50 in the VCE subject), and a fair lot about music of which he seemed to have many strong views about. He seemed so imposing in his views about everything that at one point, he felt it appropriate to grab me by both sides of the head, push his forehead against mine and tell me that I “must listen to Bright Eyes” and that “Conor Oberst his the modern day Bob Dylan”. He also went on a similar spiel about Death Cab for Cutie.  The guy, while intelligent seemed to have a perfidious air about him which made me uneasy, so by that point I had had enough of the anecdotes about starting riots and living with poets in foreign countries. I nauseous and just wanted The Antlers to start.

Finally the lights dimmed, the curtains opened and there they were; The Antlers. My ears were instantly caressed by the swelling sea of guitar, synths and cymbals, breathing in and out in a chaotic yet silvery way that only The Antlers could do. Rhythm began to develop, the chord progression slowly revealed itself and finally Peter sang the first lyric “I wish the I had known in that first minute we met, the unpayable debt that I owed you” and from then on, the crowd hung off his every word, as did I. “Hospice”, their third studio album is one of my favourite albums and I have been following them since Ryan recommended it to me. It’s insane seeing someone who I have seen in heaps of live footage on the internet and have listened to so much only a few metres away from me singing so many songs that have formed a big part of my emotional landscape. During the last song on the set, “Wake” Peter forgets his lyrics, laughs and the song stops. He said that there were “a hell of a lot of lyrics in these songs, you know”. He wanted to skip that bit and continue on, but the crowd begged him to sing from the beginning of the verse where he stopped. Peter, reluctant to sing that bit again eventually gave in. After a bit of banter about apartments in Brooklyn and how the other guys (Michael and Darby) will never let him live down forget lyrics, which according to Darby he’s sung “thousands of times”, they continued. They walk of stage and I’m am emotionally drained and buzzed with excitement simultaneously. After such an intense emotional set, most of the crowd and I have lost about half of our respective body weights from weeping, and yet we manage to muster up enough energy to call for an encore. They come out and play “Epilogue”, the perfect way of ending the show.

The night ended with a great trip home with Ryan talking about music, uni, and the usual insanity, but in particular the great conversation about South Park and Family Guy on the walk home while armed with a Slurpee. What a brilliant night!

(Source: h0rrorfied)

This made my night. It’s the best when Armstrong joins in with the singing.

paranoidandr0id--deactivated201 said: Wow, it sounds fucking great. I'm glad you had a good time even though I don't know you or anything. You're c00l though. & hold it right there, do not complain about it being hot! (fair enough it sounded TOO hot) but all I ever long for is sunshine and heat and I get barely any ^-^ Hope you're not too sunburned. I haven't heard of most of the bands you saw I'm afraid, must be Australian. What type of music was it?

It was both horrible because of the heat and amazing because of the music. As for what type of music, it was quite varied from folk, dance, stoner-rock, hard-rock, metal, roots, the list goes on. There was a surprising diverse array of acts there, which impressed me. 

Thanks for the compliment, but I’m very uncool. On the other hand, it could be argued that coolness is relative and is based on the extent to which one flouts or adheres to a cultural template rather than an absolute value basic on empirical observation of universally accepted set of attributes. So maybe I’m cool in North-East England, or maybe just the height, depth and breadth of your own personal bubble…Hmm. 

You say that you long for sunshine and heat, but I think if you spent some time here, you would probably yearn for the familiarity of the wistful melancholy that the cold, overcast weather of England. I would love to get away from the heat and go to England so I don’t get partially vaporised every time I leave the house. Chances are that I will likely not survive the cold and beg to return to the heat that I have become accustomed to over the years. I suppose it comes down to humans’ innate propensity to yearn for a break in the pattern; the grass is always greener, it seems.

cigarettesandstills said: UncleWalter, how was Andrew W.K? I wish i had gone to see him, but i was too busy at Lupe. Was he as motivational as he is in those YouTube videos i watch? Did he talk about the weather? Also: highlights of the day?

He just played, jumped around and yelled about partying and how awesome Melbourne is. He probably mentioned in passing that it was bloody hot. I think Angus and Julia stone and Grinderman were the highlights for me.

paranoidandr0id--deactivated201 said: How was Big Day Out? Which bands were there?
Tell me all about it bbyyy

It was one hell of a day. I got there at around 11am and managed to catch The Vines who were the first to play on the Orange stage. Already at that stage it was around 35˚C, though it got up to 39˚C. Luckily my sis’ came prepared with sunscreen and I had a bottle of water. Summer has been really peculiar, in fact this summer has been so un-summer-like that Queensland has been flooded to buggery with rain. There has only been a few days here and there where it has been hot. Big Day Out is certainly the worst day for it to be 39˚C. 

After The Vines I went to the Blue stage to see Little Red. I was quite surprised to see Mr. Felstead, the sax teacher from my high school on stage with them. On the other hand, I suppose it’s not that much of a surprise since he’s quite a prolific session musician in Melbourne. It was a thoroughly enjoyable show.

By the time I finished my overpriced lunch of a pepsi and a burger, my skin was audibly crackling it was so hot. I managed to peel myself off the pavement and saunter over to the Green Stage where I saw Jim Jones Revue and Andrew W.K, which was louder than loud. I regret not bringing my earplugs. 

I then went and saw Angus and Julia stone. Well, when I say I saw them, it really only heard them and actually saw the backs of people’s heads and the arses of women sitting on shoulders, a few guitar headstocks and the drummer, who I was surprised to find was Matt Johnson, who played with Jeff Buckley for years and performed on his album Grace. He is one of my favourite drummers and he fitted in perfectly. By this point I was bordering on heatstroke.

After a second overpriced meal, this time consisting of a hot dog and Pepsi, I caught a bit of the John Butler Trio’s set at the Orange stage then I had to lie down. After about 20 minutes, a guy in a fluorescent vest comes up to me and pokes with a stick to check if I’m alive. So I got up and saw Iggy and the Stooges on the Blue Stage, though it was a similar situation to Angus and Julia stone as I only really saw the backs of heads and arses, but the with addition of surly, stoned and drunken middle-aged folk, so I left.

By this point in the day, I was hanging in tatters. Even after drinking around 2 litres of water, I was still dehydrated, so I lied on the grass near the Green Stage while Wolfmother played the end of their set. I eventually got up and watched Primal Scream so I could get to the front for Grinderman.

Grinderman was probably the most intense show I have seen. I was front and centre with the entire crowd pushing me against the barrier. I could hardly move or breathe. They were the loudest band I saw. Seeing Grinderman, I really really regretted not bringing earplugs. My parent could hear Grinderman from their bedroom, quite loudly…From 4km away. At one point Nick Cave had his gut on my face when he stood up on the barrier and leaned into the crowd. Everyone around me was reaching towards him and so I was crushed by all the people trying to get close to him. An hour being covered in the sweat of hundreds is not generally what I’d call fun, but on the other hand, Grinderman are awesome, so I can’t really complain. I actually scored Nick Cave’s pick at the end of it, some other bastard in a Superman costume and a few other peculiar folks got the set lists. I should remember to be more peculiar in order to get set lists at anything involving Nick Cave.

So by the end of the day, I ended up with 13 hours worth of heat rash, a pounding headache, the sweat of hundreds on my shirt, various wounds, sore joints and Nick Cave’s guitar pick. I can safely say, it was the best day ever.

Big Day Out

I can safely say I have experienced many new things today. Over the course of today I have accumulated 13 hours worth of heat rash, at least 10 hours of sunburn, extremely loud tinnitus (ringing ears), a pounding headache, 100 people’s sweat all over me at one time (I was front and center for Grinderman with the entire crowd pushing me against the barrier), Nick Cave’s guitar pick and Nick Cave’s gut on my face for most of a verse. All in all, a good day.