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Name: hoffmann

Bio: Sam is an active creative cycling the broad/thin lines of video/performance/gardening/lots of things. He is particularly interested in why Gen Y is so quick of mind and short of thought using himself as subject.

Photos: hoffmann's photo libraries

Last Smokes ( 2nd Jul, 2007 )
Nowhere man ( 24th May, 2007 )
seasonal adjustment ( 1st Jun, 2006 )
wealth of the commons ( 29th Mar, 2006 )
like a fool in a china shop (mall) 3 ( 30th Dec, 2005 )
like a fool in a china shop (mall) 2 ( 13th Dec, 2005 )
like a fool in a china shop (mall) ( 11th Dec, 2005 )
Uplands and downtown ( 28th Nov, 2005 )
cairns cairns ( 21st Sep, 2005 )
urban surfin in the delhi ocean ( 21st Sep, 2005 )
photo memento ( 16th Sep, 2005 )
travellers all sorts ( 19th Aug, 2005 )
Great Malls of Arabia ( 8th Aug, 2005 )
trains, pain and autorickshaws ( 5th Aug, 2005 )
goat herder ring tone ( 1st Aug, 2005 )
Kidnapped in Kashmir ( 23rd Jul, 2005 )
Goodbye guide book. Hello touts! ( 18th Jul, 2005 )
Taipei to the Delhi of the Beast ( 2nd Jul, 2005 )
A lonely planet guides (last two weeks) ( 24th Jun, 2005 )
Travel ,work and speed (or why the hell am I washing dishes) ( 23rd Jun, 2005 )

Last Smokes

Ok , so everyone knows that Victoria is now a smoke-free venue land, and although I think that it is good, in one way it is a shame that the days of beer drenched folly and ciggarette smoke ovens are know gone like a the aeoli in the lungs of a smoker.

I am smoker. I smoke because I procrastinate , or is it that smoking makes me procrastinate. I like to talk , drink and stare into space when i smoking. Perhaps by having less spaces to do this then it will be unacceptable to waste time via the drawing of a nicotene stick.

In order to celebrate the last night of smoking in pubs , I went to the Queen of Pub Royalty ,the Northcote Social Club.

But first a bit of history.

The Northcote Social Club is the second incarnation of the now demised Punters Club in Fitzroy . An absolutely legendary venue responsible , or irresponsibly pushing up the careers of the Birthday Party , The Hunters and Collectors and virtually every pub rock band in the whole of Australia. In 2001 the Punters Club closed due to the encroaching gentrification of the wage wave sweeping through Inner City Suburb of Fitzroy. It closed much to the bellowing sadness of many smoked out dry-eyed punter drenching themselves in the last wash of watery Carlton Draught. Smoking like a quiet tornado.

It sad. Its sad in the same way of putting down an old dog, or chopping down a tree thats dying. Its tragic because we know its killing us , but the pattern of socialisation attached to cig to mouth persistance is so entrenched that to take it way is to change the course of a creek or river. Never to be the same again.

The Northcote Social Club was the perfect venue for such a memorable experience. I walked into the smokers bar to catch one quick breath of super emphysema, a blast cloud of nicotene stained the air gray , boggled eyed drunks gurning conversations , ciggerette flicks like min-min lights. Disorientated , I clammered to the bar, asked for a beer , got it , lit a smoke , and looked around me. Talk chat chat pitters like verbal machine guns, slurps like grenades, chinking glass like …. glass cutting blood. All around me death …. smoke… carnage….. me …. smoke.

I realised I was killing myself. But hell , this was history and if i ever had a chance to go down in glory I would .. now…. and forever. I felt the time tick over …. I looked around the crowd then to the clock . Five minutes to go until the end of fags in public. I thought to myself ‘ why am I celebrating this. I butted out and left the room.

Nowhere man

I wonder where I am. I am online and connected , but a strange thought , well it wasn't that strange it was more a kind of vision, made me realise where I actually am.

I imagined that the whole internet connected world as one massive umbilical chord , that stretches across the planet , plug in to individuals in indeterminate ways. It feeds us information , but allows us to re-cypher this information and send it into the web , to be consumed as bytes of consciousness by others. Yes it is universal, but it also a coloniser of memory and creates an addiction of sensory information input. I imagined this massive womb of westernism bulging with electricity, intercected with minutes wire's like a brain , pulsing veins of extracted forests and mined deserts , placentas of fresh water ,fingers groping the globe in search of the uncharted , where the wires can enter , what can be sold , told and consumed. A whole body of culture, fed by Carbon Dioxide emiting energy and speaking the language of the science episteme.

What happens when the plug is pulled?

What happens , as it is in Victoria , where the water issue is so dire that they say we wont be able to run the power stations in the same extremes in six months time ?

Will the eco-systems and gardens provide us with the same info-sensation as a computer game or foreign travel?

Will the intricacies of the local seem to pale to the instant hit of the exotic?

Where are we?


Where is home?

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