The Bedroon Philosopher

Hello again!

The Bedroom philosopher is the Self proclaimed ‘prince of folk,’aka Justin Heazlewood.
He is very funny! BUT has crazy eyes!

I am a bit excited because I found out that he is going to be playing at the ZINE fair at TINA : This is Not Art festival 29th September -3rd October! CHECK out the link for TINA!


I will leave you with some of the wise words of the bedroom philosopher from the song "I'm so postmodern":

I’m so postmodern that I just don’t talk anymore,
I wear different coloured t-shirts according to my mood.

I’m so postmodern that all my clothes are made out of sleeping bags,
I don’t need pockets, I’m a pocket myself.

I’m so postmodern I go to parties I’m not invited to
and locate the vegemite and write my name on everyone.

I’m so postmodern that I write reviews for funerals,
and heckle at weddings from inside a suitcase.

I’m so postmodern that I breakdance in waiting rooms,
play Yahtzee in nightclubs, at three in the afternoon.

I’m so postmodern I only go on dates that last thirteen minutes,
via walky talky, while hiding under the bed.

I’m so postmodern I invite strangers to my house,
and put on a slide show of other people’s nans.

I’m so postmodern I went home and typed up everything you said,
and printed it out in wingdings, and gave it back to you.

I’m so postmodern I request Hey Mona on karaoke,
then sing my life story to the tune of My Sharona.

I’m so postmodern that I dress up as Santa,
in the middle of August, and haunt golf courses.

I’m so postmodern that I cut off all my hair,
and knitted it into a beanie, and threw it off a bridge.

I’m so postmodern that I stole everyone’s mail,
and cut them up into a ransom note and hid it in a thermos.

I’m so postmodern I take my lego to the supermarket
and build my own shopping trolley, and only buy one nut.

I’m so postmodern I bought a round the world plane ticket,
and stuffed my clothes with eggplant and pretended it was me.

I’m so postmodern that I iron all my lettuce leaves,
put my shirts in the crisper - they’re real crisp.

I’m so postmodern I recite Shakespeare at KFC drive thru’s,
through a megaphone, in sign language.

I’m so postmodern I go to the gym after hours,
push up against the door, then cry myself to sleep.

I’m so postmodern I wrote a trilogy of novels
from the perspective of a possum that Jesus patted once.

I’m so postmodern that I marry all my friends,
soak myself in metho, and tell them that they’ve changed.

I’m so postmodern I think I might be a god in my undies rolling in sugar, in the carpark of a rodeo.

( MY PERSONAL FAVORITE:)
I’m so postmodern I write four thousand-word essays
on the cultural significance of party pies.