I know that since "Reagonomics" of the'80s, with deregulation of the banks and Wall Street, and massive reduction of taxes for the super-rich, that the middle classes have been squeezed out and sunk more towards the working poor, especially in America. But here in Australia there is still a substantial middle-class that act as guardians on the door to upward mobility, professions such as doctors, dentists, lawyers, advertisers, arts curators etc as well as an army of Govt. bureaucrats, and they make dam sure they keep a tight fist on those well paid jobs for fear that they might too sink towards the "lucky to be working" poor. I, as an unheralded artist, sank even further down into that human morass called the "lumpen proletariat", the Underworld of the no-hopers, vagabonds, layabouts and beggars, never to get an even break. There's only so many places on the gravy train and, as in the dystopian movie "Snow-piercer", it's a cut-throat battle to get ahead.
Many years ago, the Hollywood actor Jimmie Stewart, touring the world to tout for his best mate Ronnie Raygun's second term as President, was guest presenter of Hitchcock's "Rear Window" at the Sydney Film Festival. As he got out of his limousine I couldn't stop my Tourettes and I heckled him, "Hey Jimmie, Ronnie's gonna lose! History will tell, and Ronnie will eventually lose out!" I was rewarded with a free ticket to the movie by a bouncer which I enjoyed thoroughly, and I was right about the future repercussions of the old movie villain's policies, America's rich are bathing in money while the middle classes are starving, begging for work at $10 an hour. This act, among others, surely did my non-career in.
And it goes on. Here in 2017 there is a "Dark Corporate" festival called “Livid” wherein “the connected” get to put on shows, especially in Kings Cross, my old hunting grounds. If you peruse these Blogs you’ll find many artworks and stories depicting the Cross, I’ve put on several shows there over the years, but the curators of “Vivid” have coldly excluded me. A mate of mine referred to me as “the poet of the streets” and this has possibly done me in as there are other writers in the area who feel they are the only geniuses deserving of such a title, I renounce the sobriquet, I am a piece of shrieking shit and I know it, and I bet if my name was mentioned as a potential Cross character worthy of inclusion there would be a quick, “No, not him!”
Jay Fartz has never produced a thing except lording it over arse-licking desperate film wannabes and when he’s dead he will be instantly forgotten; for all he’s gotten up the bums of the “Vivid” organizers he must be just plain jealous of what I, a poor guy from a housing estate, has managed, with no old boy network, committee climbing or family money. He showed trash movies in a pub in Anandale for many years and I once asked him politely to show my film but he politely declined. I even presented him with a few of my hand-made silkscreen posters for his Trash movie archives and I bet he sold them on as they are going for a $1000 from certain galleries and I didn't put them there. At that same rally I spoke of above I saw Jay Fartz with his fist raised like some low-rent Che Geuvera but when I went to say "hello" to him he turned his head away with his nose up in the air as if he'd smelt shit coming, and he did, only it was from his own arse. Dig it! What did I do to this crud except be a cool cat? Instead of being polite I should've heckled him on the spot, I'm tired of being the nice guy, next time I see the arsehole I'll give him an ear full!