Fuck, It’s Balmy–

I’ve 36 minutes and even that makes me feel a little bit bad. A little bit like I should be working harder, doing more, despite the fact I actually do a lot. I’ve pinched a nerve in my left index finger playing my guitar tonight. It feels good. A sweet pain. All guitarists love that … Continue reading

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Bitter Meeting New Like…

He tells me loads. I listen a plenty– I say that I need to go home– He asks why– I mention that I’m kinda skinny on the ‘ol cashola– That Sydney is raping me. It costs a lot. I’m working loads I’m doing my best– but, you know– It’s a jungle out there. Plus I’m … Continue reading

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Outlawing The Moon.

I first heard of Hugh MacLeod late one evening on my front terrace in North Melbourne. A wheelchair bound man had been struggling to mount his chair up and in to the Town Hall Hotel late one night on Errol Street. My friends Tim and Finn (funny, I know) had lurched out of their chairs … Continue reading

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