But Undercover of the Night always brings a tear to my eye

I did more out of the ordinary stuff on the weekend I went to Sydney and played with my good friend and two of her good friends who are now my good friends.

Out for Thai food at Three Mangoes and Tom said do you think the name of the restaurant is a pun on Three Amigos, I threw my hands up in the air and said damn that’s clever (which was true) and his wife M said no because that’s Mexican talk and then Tom said Hey, check it out and slapped the wall and sure enough it was prime Santa Fe sandstone he was slapping. We ate a bunch of food that was real nice and I was hurriedly stuffing my face with fresh chili trying not to look macho. M did the same. I asked if she could feel the geyser of endorphin and she said no what a strange concept and I told her I said that’s at least 55 percent of why I do it. Her return glance was priceless let me tell ya. We intervened on our good friend and said write a play, be a star, do whatever and do it now! The wine was all gone so we went back to my aforementioned good friend’s who runs a hell of a blog and listened to Stonesy. Companions were all too articulate for me as I struggled to explain why the stones were capable of matching Neil Young for honest to goodness feeling. They knew what they wanted to say and were original in how they said it (but freaking jaded as shit too, I’ll just add quietly). I cut my losses and told Tom I was going to make him a Pavement mix that’s gonna blow his mind! Anyway we’re throwing a reunion party for Tom and M’s band in Melbourne next year. I don’t think I have to ask De Campo’s permission for that!

The next day we checked out Tom & M’s new digs in an artist colony South of Sydney. My good friend couldn’t keep her hands off the trees, tres wild! Meanwhile I never seen so many birds in my life. A white cockatoo Tom said looked like me was displaying its yellow Mohican something or other. A qualified botanist we were like you should do guided tours, Tom. He was like nah. He seems happy making his woodcarvings and playing Facebook Scrabble with his Dutch dealer. But seriously everywhere we turned Tom would point out a kookaburra (if ever a bird made you feel good to be alive…). We also seen some rainbow larakeets and most chilling - a snake in the grass. Tom said it’s a black snake I said No way it’s a tiger snake, which is black too, yes, but also deadly.

Food for Thought

"The brain is the final pathway of all action. You can’t do much without a brain, which is why decapitation tends to lower IQ..."link

The Wonderful Jubilee of FJG: Weird Confessions of a True Partygoer

Please adjust the fader so I can appreciate the rear speakers in the back seat of this 1970s oatmeal Jaguar. Oh yeah. Nothing like a mewling Kleenex number on a warm sunny drive to make me feel like I’m heading to Zurich via Acapulco when I’m actually heading to Bendigo. De Campo rides shotgun in silver denim Capri’s and a classy western shirt. Contessa, glam and summery in a plush black dress she bought at a big sale Gertrude Street is a sensible driver never breaking the speed limit although how is she to know when her speedo is broken? I flip through a New Yorker oddly cultivating a desire to see the new George Clooney movie. Night falls. We pass where we need to turn and ask for directions at a BP station. The woman we flag down throws her map at us.

We get to the party and the hosts have set up some plush lodging for De Campo and I in their garage. Profusely flattered. Classic people eating drinking and being merry. Pleasant spots to hangout like at wrought-iron tables under trees or under their large pergola near a fire. A lot of people sit at a large table under the rear veranda near the sidetable where a selection of salads are sitting. The BBQ is hot and sizzling some sausages. Some people like Mia and the boyfriend of a sterling academic have just put steaks on. After making De Campo dinner, chat to G Roy about shiraz cleanskins and the plight of today’s prose stylist.

Gather inside the studio for speeches, music and dancing. The wife component of the most sensible couple of rock lays down some sweet-lovin' harmonica. The birthday girl is celebrated by two speechgivers in matching dresses who give rivetingly witty speeches that leave the entire party dazzled. One of the girls pitches a reality show starring FJG that is so vividly executed that she begins casting the feature film and taking suggestions from the audience. She needs an actress who is tough and firm and assertive before going onto mention a few other characteristics not representative of Cybil Shepherd yet it was at that moment I meekly suggested Miss Shepherd's name only to be reprimanded by a woman next to me who said that that wasn’t the best example I could have used and rather than say it was a total joke I said I really needed to find a toilet and when I came back to the party everyone was waving their arms to a ridiculous, mesmerising R&B song like it was some Christian revival.

Bendigo’s Surrender Monkeys dropped an ace set, followed by the extremely excellent folk rock of Sydney’s legendary Lighthouse Keepers. Inventive tambourine playing is seen and heard. The Cannanes won’t be playing though, their bassist broke his wrist lunging for a Shiraz. Instead there’s a blinding free-for-all jam to partake in. This lasts for several hours and brings much pleasure to the neighbours living adjacently.

Sunday
11am-12pm: Discuss panic and anxiety and type of medications useful in combating them. Eat sausage listening to Morrissey
12-1pm: Discuss the difference between a swallow and a sparrow — outcome at odds with my belief system. Disappointed with the sparrow, listen to Hansalf Trio.
1-2.30pm: A family of magpies (the same ones who used O Neil’s hair for their nest) and a bluetongue lizard are spotted with sausages in their mouths, listening to The Humpty Dance
2.30pm: Suzie returns to the possibility of Robert Mitchum playing FJG in the feature film version of the reality show.
1.40am: Woke up with a terrible panic proceeded to toss and turn for the remainder of the morning, then I had a dream that was more like an accusation into a type of sock that I stopped wearing five years ago.

The Cabinet of Red Crayola

Movie capsule: Dr. Caligari
”Sleepwalking Cesare, under Dr. C’s command, wakes up after 23 years to embark on a murderous rampage inside the wobbly landscape of the mentally deranged.”

Pretty straight forward capsule. I would have preferred it to be sillier or more outrageous, incorporate some wit perhaps. At least I didn’t give the entire movie away like I did last week (I Walked with a Zombie).

I was keen to see The Ancients at the Tote after the film, seemed like a cool doubleheader, until I found out it was just the Ancient and decided not to. No backbeat, no dice is how I basically roll these days; with rare exception (Mia Schoen, Kirsty Stegwazi). Instead watched some TV: The Chaser (punchable), Summer Heights High (superbly acted), NEWStopia (meh). Even though it was greatly satisfying to see Shaun Micallef back on air the only redeeming moments for me were the inspired names of his correspondents and his facial expressions. Then again I didn’t know what the hell he was on about half the time, so what do I know. Maybe it was gobsmackingly genius.

My copy of Soldier Talk by Red Crayola arrived today. Apparently I should be excited to listen to it and evidently I am. Will my thirst for funk ever cease?

Movie Reviews (in less than 25)

I Walked With a Zombie
On a sugar plantation in Haiti, voodoo has taken a woman’s soul. Why? I don’t know why not ask her mother-in-law.

Cat People
Odd reaction to birds. Met him at the zoo. Wait, who’s this sneaky tramp? Apparently it’s the other woman. Panther time!

Extraordinary Wrap-Up

Rode bikes out to Old Scotch Church and admired the scenery along the way.



My sis got married at this church in 1984, the same year the Minutemen released Double Nickels on a Dime. There’s some beautiful fur trappers buried there.































“What are those?” she asked pointing to a large patch of stuff.

“I don’t know...I ain’t a damn farmer."

We stayed at Asian Salad Guy's after the wild Flipper concert. De Campo took this shot the next morning as we wandered toward Hawthorn Street in SE Portland for a slice of whatnot.

Asian Salad Guy


















Steppenwolf performed at the Oregon State Fair and they were total crap I don’t need to tell you anymore. Interesting sidenote: my cousin’s niece who has a twin gets drum lessons from Steppenwolf’s now drummer, a talented guy who knows his way around a cowbell.

Still at the fair, I befriended several goats and kept stepping in their filth. I still had manure on my shoe when we got our stuff together the next day and loaded our things into the truck and headed for the beach.





No fronting, the burgers at my parent's local are wicked. De Campi has a Helvetia hat she picked up the last time she was here that is frayed from constant use. She went to buy another one, but they didn’t have any, so she bought the shirt which they did have instead. It fits her real nice as you can see in this photo I just took.

Hey ask her what the best burger in the world tastes like and she’ll say it tastes like a Helvetia one does. My Dad used to carpool with a guy who had eaten two of their jumbo burgers in one sitting. Ugh. Ugh, you say? Uh-huh.








The front cover of the Muddy Spurs' posthumous outing.

The last handful are pictures I'm too tired to name, other than to say they were taken in Portland around MusicFest NW, and in Idaho. All photos in this entry were taken by De Campo unless otherwise noted.