the caney, the toad, a poem. another origin lost. bad poetry.
Queenslanders, why they will never be forgiven.
Jul 9
1 Comment
the polvorin. the navy. the troubles.
The girl won't serve them. They insist. She tells them to leave. The gympy one smashes his hand down onto the bartop and demands a pint. Nobody comes to her aid. The other bar is busy and loud, The Rolling Stones on speakers, Route 66.
a bright future in retailing
Then the hangover stood up and waved at me, waved a big red flag at me. Lots of drums in the background.
the shark in the wave … possibly
The shark (?) in the wave - science provides an answer, Snell's Law in fact.
surfers who work – the smoko
Apprentices are generally regarded as a subhuman species in the construction industry and when not used for fetch and carry duties are told to go away to some distant corner of the workplace and either dig large holes or fill them in.
watching vic
Older men slowly ease into the sea-fold wreak, rafting away on their submersible logs, deluded and intent. Flinty eyed old gluttons, claiming every trough, every peak.
washing cars killing rats and discarded men
Me, I'm cool, just curious as to why lunch is leaving the room under its own power.
feral cats, three-rubber spearguns and bush omelets. a recipe.
Heard this low growl about 2 am and looked out of the tent, saw a bloody feral cat sitting by the fire - big bastard.
flame grilled chicken dipped in honey chili and rolled in potato chip crumbs
Leave town and travel the darkening highway until you reach the coast. South is best. Park amongst the mosquitoes and casuarinas .. a recipe
vastness as a companion
Gnarly old boys intent on gouging their names and origins into the hard pine as they burnt their nighttime dinner of lamb chops and chuck steak.
lonely young bones
He's at my door now, that shaggy old head. Hungry. Alone. This old friend.
in america ~ florida to texas 1968
When he pushed the cafe door open all talk inside ceased and to a man the twenty or so truck drivers inside swallowed their eggs and browns and breathed in a load of venom and held it fast.
dreaming of byron bay
It's a pity that the old Byron Astra is now just another pub full of posers and old men spinning fabulous lies and lowly mistruths.
michael kew – how he sees it
This is Mick Kew's stuff - It sounds like he does it all cold and hard but the bastard seems to score rather well. He also quotes J Kerouac - which is a fine thing for a writer to do.
voyeurism and the outlaw south bondi boardriders
Everybody fell off in those conditions, and their loose boards smashed and collided their way to the beach - a rolling logjam of splintering balsa and spearing boards
how wimbledon ushered in the 80’s – by mike mantalos
When I got to the bottom of Pop’s tennis bag, I found a zipper. Inside the pocket were letters I had written from my surf trips abroad. Australian stamps mostly, but one from Tahiti that I signed, Love Mike…
tabourie and the quiet surfer
- just a grunt as he paddled past, not unfriendly, just reserved.
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