September 2009



A blustery last afternoon in this place. A city of cold bricks and some warm warm warm people.


Sailor busted into my Aussie visitor Martin’s Vegemite stash and dragged two tubes back to his dog lair. The fact that a garbage-gobbling *dog* took one taste and stopped eating is, I believe, at last, proof positive that Vegemite intrinsically tastes like sh*t.

Granted, Sailor is a Welsh Corgi, not an Australian Shepard… Hmm.



Swallowing a spoonful of Brooklyn pedestrian culture, as I won’t see much of it this Winter.


The Australian boys who were my band for Bluesfest, here playing to surf movies. Good to see them. Bad to be in Manhattan at night.


Aussie Andrew Kidman is strapping my kick drum onto a car’s roof rack moments before absconding with half my music gear. I wouldn’t allow such drum-toting tomfoolery from the inhabitants of any other nation – but my dear Australian posse have my heart forevermore. They’re in town to play at the NY Surf Film festival tomorrow night in Tribeca, soundtracking Andrew’s sea film. The Brown Birds.


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