Plasmas & Mazdas

Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of tickytacky
Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same
There's a green one and a pink one and a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.

one street back and you're in wrongtown. however it's creeping in at a rapid rate and eclipsing the heritage with which we distinguish ourselves from others.

Every city has an 'old town' or 'old quarter' where the culture is kept as it should be. the coastal suburbs of this fair city are our version of an old town, particularly my south-central hood.

60's beach shacks, once used as holiday houses for the city's affluent, now mostly kept in sub-mint condition by this generation's affluent. new money with old taste. good. it's when the new money with its new taste or lack there of, come in, take over and make my ears and eyes bleed. there's no denying how important it is for the construction industry to thrive but stop rendering every god damn house until we live in 'Agrestic'... 

There is charm in rusty bikes, weatherboard californian bungalows, norfolk pines, EH Holdens and long lazy lawns. 

Awful expressionless dwellings with big brick fences, marble benches and security systems so adept, it can make you tea and give you one in the morning are for the outter suburbs. Supposedly the blank, treeless, over-developed ghettos which are promoted as the ultimate australian dream is where we are headed. If heaven is as heaven does, than this is hell for sure.

i wish i had a mango tree..... in - my - back - yard