daily posts

just had a computer wigout, so bored of writing now – all you need to know is above

We’ve got old skool radio again meantime; Tales from the Hip is now available by membership only

‘It Is… Pt.56 ‘cf’ … Ok, new format due – back to ‘It Is… ‘ and radio show – this Tales from the Hip little baby is garnering legs – big hairy ones, so full novel it is, available by subscription only – anything from $8 to 50 – to infinite dollars a year, your […]

‘It Is… Pt.54 ‘cf’ … Ad lib – that’s right, I listened back for the first time to last weeks rant and was unhinged enough by the preamble twaddle to want to just get straight to the amble twaddle, which by the way folks may soon be condensed into a chapter and sought thereafter only […]

‘It Is… Pt.54 ‘cf’ … Honking and hollering causing a right hullabaloo. Geese, Canuck ones at that, beeping in the morning, beeping in the evening. Must be horny season, well the daffs are sprouting so why not the bees. Light is in the air. Whoa oh oh oh oh, yeah light is in the air. […]

‘It Is… Pt.53 ‘cf’ … away with the bush beating, it’s been an arse of a week; a billion bills, vis a vis speeding ticket, driving in the bus lane ticket, new road tax, dropping my fags in a puddle on a day I don’t even smoke, dropping toast butter side down on a hairy […]

‘into… – Tales from the Hip pg/pt 5’ ‘cf’ … ordinarily yes for sure, a sequence of events could unwrap a good ol’ fashion intro by setting scenes and giving a wistful character the nod, but hey, cold beans aint hot. Jax, in the meantime, grrr, from Durban’s Bread, alive alive oh, crying cockles and […]

‘into… – Tales from the Hip pg/pt 4’ ‘cf’ … Wake, walk, work, walk doth thread the mid-week cycle of a bloke and his dog. And as the wood’s last clumps of snow huddle together in the shade like year-round patches on the dark side of a mountain, so does he while awaiting the spice […]

‘into…the Hills – Tales from the Hip pg/pt 3’ ‘cf’ … In real time on a cold -3° Monday morning the crisp blue sky fired up by an explosive orange zest shone so fresh you could taste its zeal. It held a Mediterranean heat too, if you stood directly in line and imagined. The next […]

‘the great escape’ ‘cf’ … feet softly prowl, hard to decipher how many, could be two or four, they’re faint lending a camel’s gait only shorter in step and missing the density. Why a camel would be walking the back alleys of Brinny he couldn’t think, but it was that time of year. The smell […]


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