I'llget the booze and catch upstuff over with first. Booze mainly because at JB'sgig in Sydney last Tuesday we started off at the 3 Weeds in Paddo, across the road from Ariel Books where the book gig played out. There was beer at the book gig! Fucking tops. Then we had beer with plates of grilled bits of meat at The Balkan. Then more beer at The Beauchamp Hotel back down the road. I finished with a large straight up Makers Mark and that was me done. It was a fine evening where I caught up with other Cheeseburger Gothic followers, namely Savo, AgeingGamer, Darkman and BondiBoy. I'd met Darkman once but not the others. Its funny how we managed to click at least at that superficial "hail fellow and well met" level. I've previously split beers with Lermontov, Nautilus, Chaz (and Mrs Chaz), JB, Unicorn (where the fuck has he gone?) and Bedes. It all ends up pretty well. On Tuesday it was also good to see the merge of Burgers and Tweeters. By the time JB puts out another book I don't think it will be groups of less than fifty coming along. Wouldn't surprise me if his gigs become unmanageable in terms of doing the smaller scale feed'n'pub happenings. That's what happens when someone's popularity starts hitting that next level.
Oh yeah, back at The Beauchamp Hotel I was when I realised it was the same pub in which David Ireland wrote "The Glass Canoe", his Miles Franklin Award winner about a bloke who drinks at a pub. I read it years ago and found it again back at my mum's place when we weredoing some cleaning out. Its a good read, giving what are now echoes of a late 60's-70's life in a semi-industrial suburb of a big city in Oz. Its mainly a series of vignettes but warms up to some good narrative. And a lot of it happens in a pub which to my mind is sheer fucking genius. Mind you The Beachamp these days is not really a pub having been well and truly renovated to cope with the pink dollar then more recently the boom of the Noughties.
World Cup. Fuck it was a poor one. Vuvufuckenzelas are The. Worst. Things. Evvaahh! Santo Sam and Ed however were pure gold. I seriously want the DVD to come out. Les and Foz were fucked. They stink, big time. They are so fucking insular it ain't funny. I watched five minutes of the arseclowns before giving up on them.
Bicycles. Tour de France. Fuck it annoys me. Its that thing of yeah, I'll watch a half hour and then go to bed. Fucking bullshit. End up watching a couple of hours and getting in a nice warm fug in front of the heater with a glass of something tasty by my right arm and daydreams of sick leave running through my mind. So Cadel has the yellow guernsey today and this is his Big Chance. It could be Cadel's Year.
Those fucking cobblestone bits early on were a laugh. Well, I laughed anyways, especially when a large part of the Peloton went arse over tit. You just gotta laugh at cyclists falling over and then wanting to go the biff. Must be roid rage.
Tax. Did it in record time. Took me one hour to download it, fill it out on line and send it back via the interwbez to Mr Tax Refund Man. Did it just now as a matter of fact in this interwebz cafe. If Mr Tax doesn't argue with my reasonable deductions then its whoopee time! Cigars and single malt plus a new bit of sound gear for the car. And maybe some new shoes. Really, just threw that in for any chicks who may drop in. Its really about the whisky and cigars and maybe DVDs of the Cricket World Cups back in Seth Efrika (2003 when Punter went ballistic) and the West Indies (2007 when Haydos went crazy and Bob Woolmer tragically died of a heart attack in his hotel room). Maybe. But its really about the whisky and cigars, hopefully in time to celebrate Cadel getting the winner'scheque in Paris.
Speaking of drinks, I'll be on me way now.