From 'Palimpsest'

Bird (Gore's nickname for Tennessee Williams) hitting bullseye as JFK and Gore look on, 1958.

"When Jackie heard that we were in Miami, she asked us up to Palm Beach for lunch. The Bird had no idea who they were, but took my word for it that Jack was running for president. We arrived an hour late. Jack was firing a rifle at a target on the lawn. He was not a very good shot; and I was as bad as he. The Bird casually took the rifle from him and shot three bull's-eyes, "Using only my blind-eye," he cackled.
Jack knew exactly how to flatter authors. Always say you admire their least successful work. He praised Summer and Smoke and the Bird began to find him presidential. He also found him sexually attractive.
"Look at that ass," he said thoughtfully, as Jack led us into the damp, moldy-smelling house.
"You can't cruise our next President." I was stern.
"Don't be ridiculous. The American people will never elect those two. They're far too attractive."

- Gore Vidal

Key post

I'm on the computer updating our company newsletter listening to Viva-Radio's Public Sensory Radio Program (tagline: Music to make mutant babies to) play a song by the Master's Apprentices' called Fresh Air by the Ton that's a pretty good blues jam and blogging about my minor experience of it all.

Vacation snaps

De Campo and I went to Bright for four days after Christmas. Bright is three and a half hours by car. These photos are from that trip.

Pit stop in Glenrowan to extend a few vertebrates (old mosh pit injury) and to eat some average tucker. Got our photo taken with Ned Kelly, outlaw who only stole from the banks. Where are our heros now, dare I say?

Our digs.

We slept on that.

We balconied and bbq'ed on that thing there.



Vicky, the masseuse at Bright Massage, applied her elbows firmly into my gluts and drew us a map to a swimming hole far off the beaten track that was every bit the idyllic picture of youthful innocence that is the final scene of Bergman’s Wild Strawberries. Thanks to Vicky I can get out of a chair now with considerable more ease.

Blissed out set-menu at Boynton’s. Champers to begin.

This mustard pickle butter number was fricking tops.

I had ocean trout with their sav blanc and it bleeping ruled.

De campers went for the pork belly and apparently regretted it a little afterwards. “No you don't,” I said. “YES, I do,” she answered.

Duck salad and the merlot for moi.

De Campi took to the whole snapper like a frenzied sea devil.

Cannanes will play here and it will be awesome we decided (Wandi Pub, Wandilogong)