Rain smashing at the windows and my Telecaster guitar is making noises about wanting to be played. I’ve been stuck in front of the computer for too long, sipping at ever-cooling Assam tea (fantastic tea shop in Newtown, Sydney called Tea Too) and nibbling on the last of the Smarties brought over in March by the great Scarface McClintock. Just been listening to The Beatles ‘I Want You (She’s So Heavy)’ from Abbey Road – fantastic!
The Tele is practically screaming “PLAY ME!!!” 1971 Blonde… peaches and cream.
I really haven’t played enough guitar since last week. This apartment sounds great acoustically… I love picking my Lowden acoustic up and getting lit on some groove in the front room overlooking the sea. I’ll post the view soon, along with pictures of my polystyrene sculptures, bought for ten Aussie dollars at a funky warehouse called ‘Reverse Garbage’.
When I landed here in February I laughed in the face of anyone who told it would ever get cold. We only bought a heater from some friends who were leaving Sydney after extreme badgering. At this moment in time, my clothing is as follows, from the ground up: 2 pairs of socks, jeans over fisherman pants, tracksuit top (bought for a fiver in Portobello market in March – bargain of the year) over Replay long-sleeved T-shirt over my favourite ‘Grand Royal High’ Ghettoblasting Sausage Dog T-shirt. And I’m still cold!
My grandfather e-mailed me a scan of a letter from a school in Edinburgh that used ‘Angels In Drag’ as material for their year-long video project. I want to see what they’ve done but the tapes are a long way away, sitting on the old mahogany dining table in my grandparents’ house. Soon…
21:46 – Just got back from a quick bite of dinner in the Clovelly Hotel. Not bad.
About a month ago I saw a big bat hanging between telegraph wires down the street. Just hanging, in broad daylight. Next day, it was still there, so I figured it was dead. Day after day it just swung in the breeze, clinging to the wire, wrapped up in its wings like some shrivelled brown fox in a bag. I told D. it would fall down the back of her jumper some night when she was walking home. One thing was certain, though; that the bat would fall sometime. It was there tonight, crashed on the pavement, lying in puddles, solving its own mystery. We wait for these things to happen, but when they do, we just skirt round the edge and walk on as if nothing has happened.