HOT: Kylie pre-release exclusive.

Where were you today at 10.00am? In a record company boardroom, being guarded by goons and listening to a preview of the new Kylie Minogue LP?

Don't ask me how I came by this, but I can assure you it is 100% legit. And 100% industry bullshit, at the same time.
And no, of course I didn't fucking go.

No Time Wasters

One of the few joys of Melbourne's street press is the fake classified ads that appear in Beat magazine each week- often they are the only thing I read, the same way Fred Negro's "Pub" comic strip is often I all bother reading in Inpress.
Regardless, the genius behind them has now collected a year or so worth in book form-drop him a line for a copy. Highly recommended. Some samples:







as ever, click to enlarge

The high life.

It's not all fun doing this, you know. Try this for a slice of life.
Got pissy drunk at a few bars last night, woke up at 5.00am on a hard iron bench in a train station waiting room- an early outbound freight was pulling 80 or so empty boxcars past, man it was loud.
I rolled over and noticed a pigeon picking bits of rice & stuff out of a puddle of vomit- oh yeah that was mine, it was on my shirt too. Shifted a bit to ease my sore back, then went back to sleep.
Got woken again just before 6.00, some prick who was opening up the ticket booth. "You can't sleep here", he said. "Well, it wasn't easy, but yes, I can, actually." I replied. Motherfucker called the cops...they told me to move on, even though I tried and tried to explain I'd missed my lift home, and was waiting for a train.
Went over the road & found a laundrette that was open, threw my shirt & tshirt in a quick wash and went back to sleep. The Vietnamese woman who runs the joint came in around 11.00, woke me up (yeah, that makes it three times in one morning) and would only let me use the drier for like 10 minutes. Shirt still damp, but put it on anyway.
I left, went looking for a beer and something to eat. Realised I had lost my mobile phone- no, wait, I lent it to someone last night. Hopped a tram & went to get it back, banged on the door too hard and had a big shouting match. End result- phone thrown, hit me & split my eyebrow. Fuck. Ouch. And now it doesn't work properly.
Took some of my rent money out of the ATM, went to a pub for lunch. Had a beer & a burger, stuck $10.00 in a poker machine, won $20.00, had more beers. Took more rent money out, had more beers. Went home.
Puked in the shower, went to sleep.

Oh yes.

Pool scores

For those of you who keep asking, I'm now 6-3 down against my regular partner. All right? I may have to take up pub trivia instead.
And yes, I know Walter Lindrum played billiards, not pool, but what a great tombstone.

Pool scores

While I'm here & posting, can I just say that it is really fucking bad manners to whine when, despite all the cue gymnastics, you start your half-arsed game off with a foul break, and then try and steal shots when your opponent is at the bar/putting money in the jukebox/lighting a cigarette?
A very satisfying win, that one. Oh yes.

the professor speaks, part one

Did I dream this or overhear it somewhere? Maybe I made it up.

70, no, make that 80 percent of what is known today as rock and roll performance is utter bullshit, that requires the total and willing suspension of disbelief on the part of the audience to get off the ground, let alone fly any distance (says the professor, drink in hand, and fat arse firmly planted on a Tote barstool).
Buying a Strat and a Marshall amp does not make you a god. Leather pants? Don’t make me laugh! But people will still go for it if you’re lucky. And Danny Sugerman's “shaman” theory of Morrison, Jagger & Rose -yeah, stop sniggering at the back there, he did really mean AXL Rose- is complete cock, too, but those moves still pull ‘em in.
For most of the bad boys, though, the highway to hell actually leads them to semi-comfortable retirement, plugging old tunes at reunion shows & hoping that old hit gets picked up for use in a beer ad. Unless, of course, that shit really does kill you, in which case it’s game over for everyone except the lawyers & the record company.
Now, (belch) if someone wants to stick a dollar in the juke box and punch in “My Pal”, let’s move onto today’s classics lesson…

There's more of this to come, I think. Comments welcome, film & TV rights still available

Pool scores: 1 - 1

It's all even after my 3 ball choked in the lower left pocket FOUR times. Damn. Ended up rifling it up the table & into the top pocket.
More to come.