I can feel it gathering, we, the writers of Sydney have found our inward eyes leaching out into our geography and now it is coming. The next age of writing our existence, here.
The very short story of how I became an accidental creepy woman
I telephoned Kirin J Callinan to confirm a few things for the PAN issue #2 launch party. While we were chatting business I thought I'd have a little look at his Myspace page.
It was the kind of thing that could happen to anyone really, staring at a photograph of a young man posing naked with a cat while talking to him on the telephone.
It was the kind of thing that could happen to anyone really, staring at a photograph of a young man posing naked with a cat while talking to him on the telephone.
Flogged
Kate Britton from FBI stopped by and asked me a few questions about PAN magazine. That was quite nice of her really. It's pretty standard interview stuff, literature, red pens, self-loathing, shining beacons.
Clarity and focus - I hear you knocking but you can't come in
Everyone's off the booze, grinding out last cigarette butts on sun-warmed footpaths and walking away home, away from the bar, home to sit down and think out their sins. Fuck that.
It's taken me years to work up to being able to drink three whole beers in one night. It took me years to work up the courage to throw thinking to the wind and ram my head against fogged logic with joyful steps. It's taken me years to work up the stamina to be able to drink not even half what the rest of Slammatown throws down the hatch on an average Wednesday night. Now everyone's staring at me like I stood up in a mosque with a bottle of whiskey in my hand and poured out a blessing to the infidels. Fuck them.
It's taken me years to work up to being able to drink three whole beers in one night. It took me years to work up the courage to throw thinking to the wind and ram my head against fogged logic with joyful steps. It's taken me years to work up the stamina to be able to drink not even half what the rest of Slammatown throws down the hatch on an average Wednesday night. Now everyone's staring at me like I stood up in a mosque with a bottle of whiskey in my hand and poured out a blessing to the infidels. Fuck them.
He's back
Spencer is playing with Damo Suzuki again, tonight in Newcastle, last night here in Sydney, last weekend in Melbourne. This time round Gareth Liddiard from The Drones joined them onstage to add some noise. I was thinking of writing something about it but then I remembered I am lazy.
Here's something I wrote last time Damo was in town, or maybe it was the time before that. I can't remember because my memory is also lazy.
Here's something I wrote last time Damo was in town, or maybe it was the time before that. I can't remember because my memory is also lazy.
This weekend wasn’t my first time standing in front of Damo
Suzuki. I once started a review of Damo Suzuki with The Holy Soul like this: “Damo
Suzuki is committed to the emitting of sound. He spares nothing, throwing his
whole self into the grand wordlessness of Damo Suzuki's Network experience. He
dances like a one-sided Axl Rose, hands gripping the microphone, long hair
hanging in dusty curtains. Suzuki is enigmatic yet humble, as though the music
moves involuntarily through his body.”
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