The Kids Are Alright; or, Don't Go Shagging My...
Sometimes, the big black dog of sadness haunts you. And sometimes it leaps up and licks you on the face. For example, yesterday - I caught the train into town. In the fine city of Melbourne, when a train approaches the platform, commuters hear the pre-recorded and delicate intonation of a woman wishing us a good morning or afternoon, then telling us which train is arriving and on which platform....
I’m gonna do it. I’m betraying my kind. I’m insulting my holy tribe. I’m…RUNNING A GINGER RINSE THROUGH MY GINGER HAIR. It’s like a betrayal, I know - perhaps clinging to a shinier shade of red, from earlier in my life - like Mae West’s attempt to look 25 in her 1960s films…an attempt which, in the end, took on its own courageous beauty due to...
Komm Gib Mier Deiner Hand
I’m pooped today, Cats and Kittens. I heard some ugly things (last night) but saw some nice people (today). I talked to 3 strangers, ate 10 almonds and made 2 phone calls. Going well. Still, I promised myself I’d write every night while I recuperate in an alcohol-free, active and silly yet hard-core rock manner. Tomorrow morning (Thursday 2 August) I’m gonna be at ABC studios...