The Motherf*cker with the Hat

Former altar boy Troy Harrison is a 33-year-old man who’s on a quest for blood and glory. Well, not literally. Though he is a tenacious actor on a noble mission to bring the stories of a Puerto Rican New Yorker to life on the Sydney stage.

Harrison is both an actor and on the production team of upcomingplay The Motherf*cker With the Hat. The show delves into the mind of former addict Jackie (Harrison) and his drink-loving high school sweetheart Veronica (Zoe Trilsbach) as they navigate their rekindled relationship under the guidance of sponsor Ralph D (John Atkinson).

Harrison himself describes it a little more poetically: “In a nutshell, the play’s about real people. It’s about fidelity. It’s about trust. It’s about relationships. It’s about moving your life forward and figuring out the things that are holding you back … in a very funny, abusive way”. And, we imagine it’s also about a hat that seems to fuck everything up.

The play is fresh from a six-time Tony-nominated stint in the Big Apple and is now being revived by newly created company Workhorse Theatre Co.. Harrison points out that although this performance might not have Chris Rock or Bobby Cannavale as the leading actors, it still pulls its weight.

“Obviously when you’vegot something on Broadway and something from an independent production house in Sydney, Australia, there are going to be differences. Most of it’s going to come from budget. There’s a lot of things that they were able to do that we just can’t,” Harrison tells Vertigo.

“We’ve done what we can to create a believable world for the audience, but there’s no real difference [compared to the original production]. The people on Broadway did the same thing as what we’re doing – just trying to find the truth in the characters and go on from there.”

Queer Vertigo 2012 Preview

The seven deadly things that’ll ruin your summer

If you have a good think, there’s probably a range of things that you could insert into your own list regarding things that always destroy your summer plans. Here’s guessing however that the seven things below have most likely ended up on your own lists at one point. So have a flick through whilst sipping that cocktail- it may very well be your last.

1. Flies

They’re the scum of all insects. At least ants seem cute and live in some sort of a family. Flies insist on buzzing around the barbeque as if you were cooking up roadkill found on a highway strip in Indiana. As one of mother nature’s most deathly creatures, I do wonder their point of existence. They’re the typical summer nuisance and not enough fly spray in the world could get rid of the colony dwelling in my backyard. Not even our dear friend Louie the Fly could be killed with ten tins of Mortein…

2. Bindies

Something resembling a flower with a sting like a bee, these weeds are the dread of shoeless children the country over. More ferocious than a wasp’s point, messing around in the garden was more of a torture than a treasure come summertime. Break out the weedkiller before you dare go barefoot on your own front lawn.

3. Old ‘tin-can’ trains

It’s just a shake, a rattle, a roll. That’s all there is to it for a typical ride on a K, C or V set train carriage on the Cityrail network. Tin cans until they hit the scrapyard or are transformed into a gimmicky tourist attraction in Eveleigh, these trains are noisy, airless time-sucking monsters. The asian megacities Hong Kong and Tokyo look down on Sydney’s train fleet in utter dismay, incredibly confused as to how the Fat Controller running Sydney Trains just can’t place an order for some more air-conditioned people movers. Gladys Berejiklian certainly has her work cut out for her when it comes to “fixing the trains”. Good luck, love, good luck.

4. Mosquitoes

Time to prepare your shopping trolley for copious amounts of Air-raid and anti-itching cream, because as the sun goes down and the moon comes up, so do a million of your worst nightmares en-masse. Mosquitoes are notoriously spiteful the world over. Blood-sucking demons known to spread malaria, they swarm underneath Australian patios and pergolas, waiting to strike with the swiftness of a ninja on steroids. Move over Edward Cullen, it’s time to mesh up the fly screens because these suckers are coming for your delicious blood.

Get out of my way!

Dear idiot standing directly in front of the opening doors,

We all have our pet hates. Each of them excruciating in their own right and to a completely different degree. When it comes to things I dislike, you’d hate to know the real me. Everyone that does is well aware that I complain a lot. And by a lot, I mean every living moment of the day. It’s what I do best really.

But when it comes to those things that particularly peeve me off, I could rattle at least ten things off the top of my head quicker than a flash of lightening. Yet the number one spot is a harsh win over vacuuming… and that would be people moving around in public. It’s to do with their positioning, their speed, their ignorance and laziness, their lack of care, the ugly bald spots on the back of their heads and the fact they’re constantly in your way.

You’d think that people would feel some sort of demonic presence behind them breathing eerily down their backs… but no, they don’t realise their worst nightmare, I, Ryan Auberson-Walsh, am staring at the back of their head controlling my right hand from spasming and pushing them off the side of the esculator into the retail abyss below.

“Get out of my way” has now become a common phrase that feistily tangos off my lips more than once a day. And if it doesn’t, it’s because I pity you. You stupid, young fool.

My argument comes to enshroud the group of people that insist on waddling like penguins down the centre of the bitumen, standing in the middle of the esculator, blocking the exit to an elevator, train, tram or bus. It’s simple… if you step back that one foot, or move to the side and pretend you’re in the slow lane at the swimming pool, two amazing things will happen:
1. You won’t have your feet stamped on and you won’t be crushed by a gaggle of gits emerging from said elevator, train, tram or bus, and
2. You won’t be yelled at, or worse, have a brick thrown at your head for being an inconsiderate nob.

Common courtesy has all but gone out the window… which is where you’ll be going next if you don’t shuffle to the left and let someone else apart from your backpack occupy that seat. Do you hear me?

Because the poor, frustrated, impatient ones among us sure do. I think it’s about time you all got a taste of your own medicine. Let’s go all hippie on them and fill their exhaust pipes with flowers and groceries with bowling balls…

Same principle, right? Well, not exactly, but I simply wish to see you all suffer.

It’s 12:38am and that’s all you’ll get in terms of honesty today. Love it or leave it… or simply get the hell out of my way.

Your dear raving lunatic and loather of Sydney’s CityRail system,
Ryan Auberson-Walsh

Review of The Histrionic (Der Theatermacher)

The Histrionic is a deliciously devilish spin on the inner (and outer) most thoughts of every uber-egotistical actor to date. Served with generous lashings of frittata soup and performed to a tea by headliner Billie Brown, the Malthouse/Sydney Theatre Company collaboration will have the dullest of theatregoers giggling like Japanese schoolgirls.

Set solely in the inn of a rustic Austrian town named Utzbach, with a pigsty and numerous mentions of blood sausage to boot, actor Bruscon (Brown) struggles to patch together a workable performance of his ‘worldly masterpiece’, The Wheel of History.

Brown’s performance as self-indulgent Bruscon is exaggerated perfection, ringing true for an eccentric playwright who declares himself the greatest in “the history of the world.” Bruscon consistently critiques his family’s acting abilities and nitpicks at his wife’s ailing predicament (she’s allergic to the smell of pigs), drawing a fine line between narcissism and his misogynistic fanfare. Through and through, his brash personality is complimented with the supporting cast’s fine accompaniment.

Barry Otto sidelines as the twitching, terror-filled innkeeper, aiming to please his tempestuous guest. His performance was enriched by his wife and daughter’s humorous country-bumpkin background shenanigans, yet the entire play succumbs to Brown’s hedonistic, attention-grabbing monologues – a guilty eye-opening, hate-filling pleasure for all.

Writer Thomas Bernhard innocently criticises his Alpine motherland with insults ranging from a light-hearted attack of Austria’s ignorant infatuation with Hitler to the lack of culinary delights. Marg Horwell’s set design and Daniel Schlusser’s directorial skills shine through in the effectiveness of staging rampant familial chaos.

Tickets are well worth the student-friendly price tag. So save up the moolah for a cultural night on the town and rather than those extra puke-inducing vodka shots, consider a pre-performance cocktail at the Wharf Bar. Because we all enjoy being that little bit classy.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★
By Ryan Auberson-Walsh

This review was first published online at the Vertigo Magazine website.

Silly Billy

Those moments when you decide to throw yourself in the deep end for a better outcome in the long run…. Well, Ah McCain, I’ve done it again.

This time however will definitely be advantageous to my future welfare though. I’ve taken on three different editorial positions on top of regular paid work and my university studies, so I’ll be a busy bee this coming semester. I am awfully excited about one of the publications though. It’s titled Querelle and is an annual magazine that coincides with a university-based conference for queer-identifying people called Queer Collaborations. This year at the conference James Wilson and I put in a bid for UTS (my university; University of Technology, Sydney) to run the editing and creative process. Thankfully we won the bid and have now got an opportunity to let our ideas flourish in the public eye!

So, with a fleeting request, I’d love for people to contribute in any way they possibly can. It would be best if you were living in Australia to understand the bulk of content we wish to produce, but we’re looking for international talent as well to provide a voice of what’s happening around the world. 

We’re looking specifically for journalists, writers, artists and photographers to send in their work that is based around queer-identifying people, or illustrates an insight into queer issues. The magazine launch won’t be till July 2013, but we’re hoping to receive timeless submissions within the coming months so the editing process can get underway! If you’re keen and would love to ask any further questions or send in a submission, simply email querellemag@gmail.com

Can’t wait to read some bold and beautiful work focussing on the LGBTIQ community of Australia.

Regards,

Ryan

That house isn’t fooling anyone.

McMansions are the inbred cousins of real estate.

All those completely misleading picture perfect housing estates are not unique and full of vibrant character…. They’re prefabricated copies of something not even Jim Masterton himself would live in, and they’re coming to a suburb near you.

I grew up learning of the beauties behind suburban life. Yet little these days is giving me hope of something as glamorous as owning my own home away from all the hustle and bustle, especially if Mr O’Farrell remains complacent about NSW’s infrastructure checklist.

With suburbia morphing into an infectious weed, slowly creeping further toward Sydney’s native bushland, our dear Barry’s lack of infrastructure supply never seems to reach all the new housing he’s been pushing for (Though technically none of the structures are anything close to new by design).

I’m also highly concerned that the ideal lifestyle of owning our own homes is limited to choosing between a price tag for the effortlessly rich or a price tag more affordable, with a less pleasing cost… living in something that resembles every other house on the block.

You’d think that architects could at least come up with some more interesting designs, rather than making a few blueprint photocopies and getting ignorant approvals by developers. If I had a three-year-old daughter she would be able to design a home grander than anything you’d see on a Mirvac plot.

So to those who are blinded by the [much] cheaper price tag, think again. Is living in ‘paradise’ really worth encouraging developers to build brick-and-mortar-copies of your home for the crazy cat lady down the street? No, I didn’t think so.

The next time you’re about to sign over your better judgement, at least consider a paint job. That change in brick colour’s not fooling anyone.

Down with planned communities, your humble local architect for president.

Backyard to Bush

Just a few things near home and around the Sydney area that I’ve found really beautiful in their simplicity.

Like I said guys, I’d like to show you a different side to Sydney. Here’s step one.

Join me on the path and see even more…

Lots of love,
Ryan

Ready to write!

It’s been quite a while hasn’t it? Not since that silly little post about Valentine’s Day have I written something for my lovely followers!

I’m here to let you know that I’m taking a step into tertiary education on Monday and I’ll be starting my Journalism course at UTS. I’m rather excited and over the past week I’ve been popping on by campus for the various orientation sessions and already made some amazing friends. Wednesday was a particularly fun day because it ended in the evening with Ofest, so there was lots to see, do and (drink). ;]

Here’s some little snapshots of my action around Sydney from the past week.

Can’t wait for monday,
Your journalist to be,
Ryan :]

The closest an Aussie gets to Turkey

Someone once made me fall in love with the Middle Eastern gem after quoting a joke as told by Canadian comedian Dane Cook. It was something about stealing Turkey and “naming it Chicken”.

Since that moment last year, my eyes have seriously been set on hitting up the salt slopes of Pamukkale, the cultural hotspot of Istanbul, and the politically rich Ankara. So it comes as no surprise that yours truly had to raid his kitchen when he got home from Europe in search of some yummy turkish flavours, but when I got there, the cupboard was bare…. and so, I headed to Pasha’s in Newtown with some friends and gorged on some of the finest Turkish cuisine in Sydney.

These photos are a couple of weeks old, but all I can say is Turkish food + Shisha + BYO + 6 friends = pure happiness. :]
Enjoy…. and if you’re in the neighborhood, head over to that lovely little restaurant!

Lots of love,
Ryan! :]
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