I’m Forming A Gang!

The headline was alarmist. It’s a lot more complex and tasteful than that. Basically, I have a utopian vision for this year. It’s my New Year’s Resolution. I want to come together with my comrades here and form a glorious syndicate of awesomeness, in our ultimate year of high school. To not waste this precious time, this time of growth and youthful power, and begin already the sort of Nieztchian transformation from socially backward, kind of spindly, teenagers to supermen, warrior-poets in the tradition of Che Guevara, Conan the Barbarian and Doctor Who. Rawr. And play the songs as you read the paragraphs. It helps to create mood. Wow. This is so arthouse.

Firstly we shall become fit in terms of a physical sense and that. We shall go down to the gym centre and train in the arts of boxing and lifting heavy objects, such as shops. Hah. Combined with Taekwondo and constantly attacking each other with blunt objects, this training system will make us invincible fighting machines capable of incapacitating rabid dogs and massaging them until they feel a little better, than training them, through a positive reinforcement system, to become entirely loyal to us, whereupon we shall release them on unfortunate hipsters who’ve migrated here, like bearded bespectacled, little hat wearing geese from the freezing dystopia of Melbourne. In self-defence of course.

Apart from dog training, we shall participate in apolitical Long Marches, trekking through forests rugged and wild, across vast dunes of crystals sands and through thick fetid swamps that may or may not be haunted by the ghosts of Elvin warriors. Probably not though. We shall become one with the esoteric universality of nature, exchanging our individualities for a pantheistic group consciousness and becoming attuned to the natural rhythm and reverberation of Mother Earth. This will probably help build rock hard thighs and attract chicks.

Added to this will be a band. A post punk leftist ska fusion outfit called, the Ancient Tongues of Isis or Deadly Supermarkets Breed Discontent. We’ll play gigs and sing of deep rooted psychological angst, the inherent corruptedness of the societal order and a group of ducks that live in a little pond by Sydney University, the one right across from Broadway, and the Portuguese chicken shop.

But the two best features will be our vehicles, for that features most prominently in my vision. About a half dozen of us, riding in either a Lada Niva, or the back of a Kombi, all decked up in either suits and bow ties, or leather jackets, armed with bows and arrows and with Pendulum and Presets blaring loud over the speakers. We shall be able to take on any reactionary louts with our weapons, training and numbers, and we shall be irresistible to the opposite sex with our deadly combination of style, intelligence, masculinity, and sheer resplendent glory. Cue next song…

From there on we shall ride into eternity, myths and legends set against a melancholy sky, defining our own existences and riding out the oncoming apocalypse with panache. It may seem far-fetched, it may seem like so much smoke in front of those mirrors at carnivals that distort things and make you look humorously fat, but I’m putting this proposal to the lads tomorrow. Hopefully when I next speak the transformation will be underway.

Becoming “Oi Alvarez”

Analyising carefully the individual factors that make up the social situation in Bungwahl I have come up with a key assertion. Bungwahl needs a hero. Bungwahl need a revolutionary figurehead, a charismatic, emblematic, symptomatic and democratic embodiement of the core Bungwahlian values of Equality, Truth, Laziness and Incest (although the last two often fit together quite well).

I will be that hero. And to reach my full potential as egotistic and idealistic guerrilla leader I will model myself on perhaps the most succesful example that the world has ever had, one who is remembered and revered to this very day. I speak of course of Che Guevara.

There are several points to bear in mind, and so several steps to take if I wish to become a figure in the likeness of the great Che. These were all I could think of.

1. Hair

I must have hair like Che Guevara. As a revolutionary leader, who fights in a tropical wilderness it would make sense to have short cropped hair. On account of stress and bugs and sweat and whatnot. I read this in Frederick Forsyth’s Dogs of War, which is a good book. Four stars.

But the point to such hair goes beyond mere practicality. You hair must be wild and free, like a naked gazelle bounding through the steaming savannahs of Brooklyn. You must be a wild, charismatic and elemental force of nature, you must exude style and power. You must be the raw visceral personification of the revolution.

"I'm On A Mule"

In regards to hair I am succeeding. I haven’t cut my hair in months, and it is wild, free, matted and unkempt. My ex’s step-sister keeps telling me to cut it, but this is silly. I don’t tell her to cut her hair, and she’s a ranga, and everyone knows red hair isn’t half as nice as the smooth jet black hair I possess. Also when I get out of the shower I can make my hair all spiky like an anime/manga character. This also looks cool.

2. Beard

I am capable of growing a beard. This power comes with great responsibility, and I habitually choose to shave my beard as to not intimidate the meeker characters of my community. It is probably also out of a sense of self preservation. Pretty much all of the good famous leftist had/have beards, therefore having a beard broadcasts to the world your politics and intentions. The CIA once tried to slip powder into Fidel Castro’s boots to make his beard fall out. True story.

English Translation: My Beard Gives Me Power

Therefore for Revolutionary purposes I will let me beard grow, at least to the level of stubble possessed in the famous picture of him that’s all over those T-Shirts.

3. Learn Spanish

Pretty self explanatory. I’m learning French and German, but there’s no language for revolutionising quite like the old Espanol. It’s also quite a common and useful language given the whole colonisation of South America thingy. “Hasta la Victoria Siempre!”

4. Get Beret

I have a black beret, but it’s more French Resistance rather than Che Guevara. This might be a nice and unique touch, and those Frogleg-munching cyclists where quite badass too.

5. Learn to Fight

I’ll go to Taekwondo to learn how to fight. My legs shall become steel bear-teeth, my arms, steel back scratchers, and my mind a steel trap. I will be able to kick the living shiz out of anyone I see. But only capitalists. In top hats. Their immense bulk will make for an easy victory, but their hired goons may prove a harder nut to suck, leading to my next point.

If I Learn Taekwondo In Spain I Can Kill Two Proverbial Birds With A Metaphysical Phone

6. Recruit Comrades

I already have these comrades. Good, solid, stoic men who can grow facial hair if the need comes. I shall preside over them with a sense of heart-warming charisma. We shall become a tight-knit band of brothers through our journey in tropical wildernesses, ritualised Greco-Roman wrestling and late night games of Yahtzee. That may seem homo-erotic, but what’s wrong with a little homo-eroticism? Besides will any of you homophobes be complaining come the revolution? No. And none shall stand in our way.

7. Wear Uniform

I need to wear an emblematic uniform. Not my school uniform. That’s just stupid. It’s too establishment and it’s not even that comfortable. Maybe something vaguely military. I’ll be wearing a beret already, so I won’t wear a striped shirt. Don’t want to be mistaken for a travelling Breton onion-salesman.

Note To Self. Resist Becoming Stereotype.

8. Get A Short Nickname

“Che” is a short vocal interjection along the lines of “hey” in Argentinian Spanish. The closest resemblance of this in the Bungwahlian dialect of English is “Oi”. So I will become Oi Alvarez. A certain ring nu?

Well that’s pretty much all of it. I could become so lost in my idealism that I come to lose part of my humanity and commit heinous acts in the name of “the Revolution” or I could die a symbolic and futile death surrounded by enemies in despair in some far off region of the world, but both of those will really interfere with my HSC.