From: ‘J’ Date: 03 May 2001 12:37AM To: ‘S’ Subject: Transvestites and tranquillisers Hey Sis. What’s up? Me, I’m getting out more now that Paige’s moved out. Can’t just sit around and wait to be entertained, goddammit. So I went to Fitzroy on the weekend, watched a sextagenarian transvestite with an ostrich feather in her hair do the mambo to a 60’s cover band whilst … Continue reading I’d like to plop my brain into a fish bowl and place it on a window ledge somewhere.
Thursday, 20 May 1999 Dear S, Igor and Dee came over for dinner last night. I made a casserole. I drank their beer. We watched music videos, bitched about work and co-workers. Igor’s been at Phoenix Magazines for a month now. His first edition is out soon. He seems to be quite enjoying it. Tuesday, 25 May 1999 How was my weekend? Same tune, … Continue reading PlayStation, beer and pizza. Satisfying men’s business.
Wednesday 21 April 1999 9.30AM Dear S Saw Billy Bragg play at the Forum last night. He was good. Preachy tho. To be expected I guess. He dances now, not something you expect from a socialist. I went with Jen, Sophia and Marcus. Sophia and Marcus had bought two tickets to see him and then discovered that a friend of theirs was on the door … Continue reading You know a rock star is on the way out when he starts singing about his kids.
Monday, 19 April 1999 Dear S, Weekend. Friday night, left work drinks at 6:30, walked home to get ready for housemate Eddie’s birthday dinner at Kake di Hatti’s in Brunswick. Cabbed there, very nearly got run over crossing the road to the bottle shop. Beer, wine, ouzo au go go. Sit at the table, we were the first lot there. I sit next to Caleb’s girlfriend … Continue reading I woke up just on the cusp of a hangover.
I found this amongst J’s paperwork. It is a copy of a letter to an ex-colleague Tariq who was travelling overseas. Tuesday, 5 May 1998 Tariq, So here it is, you thought I’d forgotten you, huh? It’s just that I seem to have lost the knack for letter writing. But how are you doing? Picked up that Murdoch kowtowing job yet? Wrap your lips ’round … Continue reading One of my personalities is a Belgian pirate, perhaps I should let him out more often.
Thursday 4 Sep. 1997 Dear S, Now this is just a quick letter to accompany your prezzies. Happy Birthday for the 8th, chick. I hope you like my presents. I decided to go for a different feel this year, I hope you like it. If you don’t, just pretend, OK? I’ve decided this year to go for a theme. Nostalgic Kitsch. Lets start with the animal … Continue reading I wonder if Sea Monkeys can scream.
VOL. 7, NO. 2 “…and then the dog chewed on it.” Thursday, Sep. 4, 1997 8:40am Dear S, The office smells like the interior of a plane today for some reason. Exactly like a plane. That funny air-conditioned, slightly-sickly-disinfectant-delousing-spray smell. Wish I had a first class aeroplane seat for a work chair. If this office was an aeroplane it would definitely be in a disaster film. Daisy and … Continue reading “… and then the dog chewed on it.”
VOL. 7, NO. 2 Sunday, Aug. 31, 1997 4:15pm Hey Sis, I know this is violating the quid pro quo rule, starting another letter before you’ve replied, but hey, what can I say. I’m sitting in here at work on a Sunday, listening to Pavement on my CD Walkman, looking out the window from Lucy’s desk (my computer has crapped itself yet again) at the … Continue reading First day of Spring brings the end of the Football Season and a dead Princess.
VOL. 7, NO. 1 Aug. 29, 1997 12:30pm Hey S, How you going? Yup, a letter from your long lost bro. How you doin’? Eh? What’ve ya been up to? How’s your car? Ha ha haa! Mum told me about it. Have you told Dad about it yet? (Oh God he’s always wanted to drive one of them) Do you want me to tell him. … Continue reading Starving myself whilst eating into my savings.
Monday, 23 December 1996 2:58pm S, Just had lunch with Dick. We went to the Kay Craddock Antiquarian Bookseller’s first though. We were looking for a book for Dad. He collects (gulp) Australiana. We were browsing through the hushed shop, next to the Scots Church on Collins Street when Dad thunders “JESUS, MATE. SOME OF THESE BOOKS ARE OVER $500!” Christ! will I spend my … Continue reading Will I spend my whole life cringing on account of my father?