Monday, May 31, 2004


I think Eric is getting a little pissed at the world. And it's pretty bloody funny too.

For Sale:

I just realised that i am working on Wednesday night. Does anyone out there want my ticket to Eskimo Joe at the ANU bar? $18 bucks.

Friday, May 28, 2004


Yes it is five, fine, female, finnish fiddlers. I told you they were not a figment of my imagination.

Don't count Johnny out of the running yet. The polls might not show it but the kids love him.


Why do i have thoughts like this?

The tissues were starting to become a problem. He couldn’t part with them, they were a part of him and it would be like cutting off an arm. At first they could fit into the shoebox. Though that was fifteen years ago. Now there were boxes of all sizes stacked waist high with only a little path between the bed and the door. He’d had a little too much to drink and stumbled into one of the boxes, arms flailing he pulled at another box in the failed hope of halting his fall. Which is how Tim ended up on his back on the floor, covered with tissues coated in his dry sperm.

Thursday, May 27, 2004


You know you are at a Tim Rogers gig for two reasons.

1) The large amount of rather frightening male facial hair

2) The large amount of rather lovely ladies

Both were in full effect as I walked into the UCU bar at just after 10pm last night to see Tim front the Temperance Union. Massive sideburns in need of a hedge trimmer and women in skimpy tops and low pants. Such a contradiction and all to see one man.

The last time I saw Rogers play he was doin it solo and didn't seem to be having a great deal of fun, but he always was a front man and needed a band to bring out his showmanship and he sure did have fun last night. Playing with the Union allows Tim to get his Johnny Cash and Merle Haggard influences out to the people which is bloody great because there isn't enough "real" country in the world anymore. Not tight pants and big hats but songs about broken hearts, broken dreams, broken axles and drowning your sorrows in a carton of bourbon. But it wasn't all tears and wails, these boys know how to rock as well.

The set was almost pure Union songs only. You Am I had the same influence as The Kinks on the set with a single song for the night. The highlights? Tim and guitarist Shane O'Mara playing a guitar licks competition in the middle of a track that saw ACDC, Metallica, Deep Purple, Jimmy Hendrix, silverchair and Prince get a look in and send the crowd and the bands into fits of laughter and groans. And a grand finale that saw Tim leap of the stage, give his guitar to a bloke in the crowd and then throw the bloke on stage to fill in while he nipped off to the bar for a beer.

A good rock show gives one a nice warm glow and it was with this exact feeling that I walked back out into the cold Canberra night leaving the mutton chops and the well dressed lamb behind.

Friday, May 21, 2004


Based on the suspenseful and action-packed graphic novel franchise, "Global Frequency" marks the dramatic television debut of successful producer Mark Burnett ("Survivor," "The Apprentice").

Warren Ellis and Mark Burnett?

The dark days are coming. Has the black squirrel of doom been sighted yet?

Saturday, May 15, 2004


I don't want to get married. I don't want to have children.

I've been saying that for a long time.

And now i think that i was wrong.

The other day i was pondering how, in the last six weeks, my life has taken a fairly significant turn. So i started to look at how it may have turned out had those changes not appeared. And i realised that within two years i could, quite possibly, have had both of those things that i had spent many years saying that i didn't want. And the strength and type of emotion that followed took me by surprise.

I felt loss.

And now, three days later, that sense of loss is still within me.

I think i grew a little the other day. I wonder what will happen now.

Wednesday, May 12, 2004

A fat envelope from Sweden landed on my desk last week. Inside were a collection of very bad EPs and Cd singles. Thnakfully there were two pieces of gold amongst the crap.

The Stuff make really great rock music. It sounds as though they have heard nothing but early Rolling Stones albums and The Stooges.

The other piece of gold is the cover. And yes the music is just as bad as you would think.

Porn Mo and a Mullet. Solid Gold!

Monday, May 10, 2004

Five the Second – (Frequent Random Shooting)

Lights up

There are four people in the room. The criminal Jacobs, the lawyer Adamson and the two police detectives Kent and Wayne. Jacobs, Adamson and Wayne are male, Kent is female.

The set is a police interrogation room. A single rectangular table with four chairs. Adamson and Jacobs sit on one side Kent sits on the other and Wayne is standing.

Kent: Look you might as well come clean Jacobs. You know you did it, you know you did it and your family obviously knows you did it because sitting next to you is a thousand dollar an hour piece of scum.

Adamson: You flatter me Detective. It’s nine hundred an hour. And I remind you that my client will not be coerced by your charm into saying anything.

Wayne: Well let’s take a look at the facts again shall we?

Wayne comes across to the table and picks up a pad.

Wayne: Two dead bodies, both shot from a distance approximately 3 feet. The bodies were previously Rodrigo Cortez and Cassius Ramirez. Who strangely enough were in the same business as your client Mr Adamson, nightclub ownership and drug dealing.

Adamson: As you well know Detective Wayne there is no evidence of my client ever being involved with drug dealing. We both know however that Mr Cortez and Mr Ramirez have been under investigation by your department and several other agencies for their drug dealing and associations with other known drug dealers. Please refrain from making such allusions in the future.

Kent: Yeah Yeah

Wayne: I’ll continue. You client states that Mr Cortez and Mr Ramirez entered his club at 4:30 am this morning. They asked to speak with him. The club was closed and Mr Jacobs had sent all the staff home telling them that he would lock up.

Kent: Very brave of you Jacobs. Agreeing to meet alone with two guys you know are in direct competition and have less than savoury business partners.

Jacobs: They said they wanted to discuss opening a club together, pool our resources, sort things out between us.

Wayne: Generous of you. Isn’t your Family one of the ten richest in the State?

Jacobs: Third. But I don’t rely on what my family provides me. I run my own business.

Kent: Really, the ten thousand dollar suit next to you would say otherwise.

Jacobs: I don’t say no to a little assistance when I need it.

Adamson: Can we get on with your fairytale detectives?

Wayne: Mr Jacobs sits down with them and things start, ten minutes later two men come into the club through a side door. They are wearing black, gloves and balaclavas. They walk right up to the three of you draw guns and one of them proceeds to fire into Mr Ramirez and Mr Cortez. They train the guns on you, but do not fire, they instead back out of the club then disappear. You call 911 and then amazingly, your lawyer. Who arrives two minutes after the first officers. You must have a fast car Mr Adamson.

Adamson: Porche 911. But you know that detectives.

Kent: Run any red lights?

Adamson: No I didn’t.

Wayne: So the officers arrive to find two stiffs and you on a bar stool.

Adamson: With no Gun shot residue, no motive and the unfortunate position of having to watch two men get shot to death in front of his eyes before being dragged in here for no reason. You have nothing on my client detectives so please do something stupid like charge him or we are going.

Kent: Sit the fuck down Adamson. We are waiting for forensics. SO you and your client can just wait. GSR means bugger all. He could have worn gloves, could have used his jacket to hold the gun or even washed his hands. Smart rich fucks always end up doing something stupid, It’s only a matter of time and there’s nothing that slick pieces of shit like you can do about it. So sit your arse down

Adamson: I did it. I organised and brokered a drug deal between the two of us and Ramirez and Cortez. We were going to pool our funds and buy a shitload from the Columbians. But those two stupid fucks tried to sell us out. They were going to roll over on us to the drug squad to save their own pathetic asses. So I blew them away. Then legged it. I knew you would take in the boy and would have no case due to lack of evidence. We would walk away with out a scratch while you lot would be left with nothing. (pause) What the fuck did I just say?

All the characters change mannerisms. The tension suddenly vanishes

Wayne: Not again.

Kent: I was almost there! That fucking bastard get him in here.

Jacobs: Two lines? I had two lines!

Adamson: Get the writer in here.

The Writer comes onto the stage.

The Writer: Um sorry about that.

Kent: Again? What your excuse this time

The Writer: Look “premature explanation” happens to all guys at some point. I was really trying.

Adamson: Trying? It seemed like you just went in and went hard. No thought for anyone else. Elle here was just starting to get worked up.

The Writer: I tried to slow down the pace. I wanted to make sure we all got there together.

Wayne: Did you try holding the base of the drama? Get some of the pressure off?

The Writer: Sure. That’s why Dave at so few lines.

Jacobs: Fucker. Maybe you should have tried something else

The Writer: I almost started listing the last ten years’ worth of Wallaby players but that seemed a little extreme.

Kent: 3 minutes 28 seconds. All we needed was another minute and a half. You couldn’t last another minute and a half.

The Writer: I was hoping the talking afterwards might count?

Kent: Typical writer. All emotion. Sure the talking afterwards is nice but it isn’t hard, throbbing, plot-driven drama, and that’s what a girl like me craves.

The Writer: I’m sorry but I’m trying everything to satisfy all of you. I’ve ordered some stuff that I got offered in my email, maybe that will help.

Wayne: One more shot. After that we are going to Bryce Courtney. That man has got a massive plot that lasts forever and never fails to satisfy.

Everyone stares at Wayne.

Wayne: So I’ve heard.

Lights out.

Friday, May 07, 2004


I present the first of what i hope will be a series of short five minute plays about inconsequential shit.

Five the First - (The Truth Should Stay Out There)

There are two young guys. There is a sofa and an armchair perhaps a TV and a playstation. One is rather animated (Graham) and should periodically get out of the chair and jump around the room, the other (Nick) more relaxed and playing the game or focused on the TV.

Graham stares for a while at the side of Nick’s head. There is a couple of seconds before he speaks.

G: You’re killing me.

N: Huh?

G: You. Are. Killing. Me.

N: You’ll get a shot soon.

G: Avoiding the question.

N: Needs to be a question asked before I can avoid it,

G: I don’t need to ask the question. You know the question! So just answer it.

N: Yeah. I’ll have fries with that.

Graham puts his head in his hands after this one. Nick takes a quick look at him and smirks.

G: Ugh.

N: Something wrong?

G: I think I may have spoken to soon. Cause of death may be due to sense of humour rather than refusal to disclose vital information.

N: Cope.

G: So did it happen?

N: What?

G: You are really going to make this as difficult as possible aren’t you?

N: Yep

G: Why?

N: Sadomasochistic tendencies I guess. Actually I just like watching you suffer.

G: And here I am trying to look after you. And this is the thanks I get.

N: You’re not going to try and kiss me now are you? Because I’ve already kissed one of your family in the last 48 hours.

G: Hah Hah very funny. Leave my mum out of this.

N: Not a problem.

G: So recap time. Friday night last night of Year 12 Production. Biiiig Party. You’re there and I, due to stupid, stupid sporting commitments are not.

N: Sounds right.

The following lines end with Graham sitting on his haunches on the sofa staring at the side of Nick’s head about 10cm away.

G: So last night, 24 hours after the big party, I get back and everyone I talk to is saying ‘So did you hear about Nick?”. “Hey Nick did well”. “Nick was on fire”. And all I’m thinking is they must be talking about a different Nick, because Nick is my friend and if Nick did anything, let alone that, then he would tell me. Especially if it was with a gorgeous blonde!

N: hmmmm

G: But I have a problem because Nick has told me shit.

N: Maybe you need to ask the question that you want the answer to?

G: But I don’t nee……… Did you do it on Friday night?

N: Do What?

Graham screams and falls over the back of the sofa

G: (Yelled from behind the sofa) It!

N: Oh that.

G: Yes That.

N: That it?

G Yes

N: Sure.

Graham springs up from behind the sofa

G: What?

N: Everyone else was so I didn’t want to be left out.

G: Everyone?

N: Drama students, you know, tend to do things together.

G: Everyone? And I missed it?

N: Gra, I’m very sorry that you weren’t there. Maybe it could have happened for you to.

G: Really?

N: Everyone was offering it to everyone else.

G: Woah!

N: Yep you too could have had a beer.

Dejected Graham

G: I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Graham disappears behind the sofa. There is a large amount of banging.

N: What are you doing?

G: Looking for something I can beat it out of you with.

N: Sorry I’ll be serious now. Look I’m putting down the game and moving to the side of the sofa.

Graham leaps over the sofa and sits facing Nick.

G: So did you do it?

N: It? Be more specific or I will keep making bad jokes.

G: You know It?

Graham jumps up and starts thrusting his hips and pulling back with his arms.

G: Ittttttttttttttt!

N: I really hope no one walks in right now.

G: Horizontal Folk Dancing, stoinking, shtupping, bonking, banging, eh-eh-eh (includes finger gestures ala Acropolis Now), make sweet love, be with a lady, have sex!

N: Have you finished?

G: Give me a second. (Graham composes himself) Yes.

N: I got laid on Friday night.

G: Whoa. With the blonde?

N: Yes, with the blonde.

G: Where.

N: You don’t want to know.

Graham gets more insistent

G: Where?

Nick points to right underneath where Graham is sitting

N: Right there.

Graham falls over the arm of the sofa in his haste to escape from the spot.

G: That’s disgusting. That’s horrible. Right there?

N: Yep

G: That’s not so tidy my friend. On a sofa? You couldn’t find somewhere more you know….comfortable?

Nick shrugs his shoulders and replies.

N: Well your sister didn’t seem to mind.

G: What?

There is a look of realisation on Graham's face

Lights go dark.

Saturday, May 01, 2004


And I thought Seinfeld respected Superman. Though it is pretty funny.