A beautiful woman told me the other night after a few glasses of Côtes du Rhône that I was cynical and negative. Can you believe that? Jeez. Have you ever tried to be cynical and positive?
At Currumbin there is a rocky outcrop that juts into the Pacific. The waves crash against it but the spray doesn't reach me. I'm safe. I'm always safe.
Dungog. Friday, 9pm. The woman is in bliss. Smiling and with eyes closed, the spirit moves her across the dancefloor. It's Friday night, the band is pumping its way through Mustang Sally, and the young woman is dressed to the nines.
There seems to be a new rule in Nimbin. I find this disturbing because since the Aquarius Festival Nimbin doesn’t really do rules. In the 1970s, even clothes were optional.
Lismore pumps. Don't laugh. Just a few minutes ago, a car skidded its wheels all the way down Brunswick Street as far as the caravan park. Then, only a minute later, I heard a police siren. Action city.
Lately, I've had to keep an eye on the gauge. Over the last couple of months, Morrison has been guzzling more water than petrol – and that's saying a lot.
Designed by K-Mart and built by robots, modern caravans will kill your spirit faster than a politician's speech. Their interiors look like Barbie's house – flawless, brand new and vomitive.
Today, I'm wearing a toga. Well, it's not really a toga. It's a sarong, which I have draped over one shoulder as well as around my waist, but I'm in a Roman frame of mind since the election, so... it's a toga.
Dunoon. Friday, 9.40am ‘Follow me,’ the English teacher says to his students. And they do. They follow him down a concrete path to the Dunoon Public School assembly area. His students are second-year university students from Japan. The English teacher... Read More →
There is a time of year which, when combined (shaken not stirred) with a certain section of road at a certain early morning hour, creates a mist as thick as an Irish White Russian.
S Sorrensen Sandon River. Saturday, 11.30am I wish Tony and Kevin were here. I wish they were sitting next to me. If they were, they’d see something I bet they hadn’t seen in a long time. They’d see thousands of... Read More →
S Sorrensen My place. Tuesday, 4.30pm It doesn’t happen often – a clean-out and rearrangement of my shack under the cliffs. Actually, this is the first major rearrangement of the shack since this building was born 28 years ago. It’s... Read More →
S Sorrensen Moffat Beach, Caloundra, Qld. Tuesday, 1.30pm He is still. This is unusual. People just aren’t still anymore. Like boiling water, we bubble and toil. Everyone is engaged in activity. We fear the quiet; what we may hear. We... Read More →
S Sorrensen Near Nimbin. Monday, 6.45pm On the road. A bag of clothes in the back. JJ Cale pumping loud through the van stereo. The engine purring like an emphysemic cat. On the road. This morning I woke up... Read More →
S Sorrensen Byron. Saturday, 1.20pm The decimal point is drunk. It’s turning round and round, flashing yellow streamers and yellow cans of Fourex Gold (which is like a beer) and loudly singing, ‘No CSG. No CSG!’ Most unbecoming for a... Read More →
‘We’re living, eating and breathing this stuff… How is this acceptable?’ S Sorrensen Tara, Qld. Saturday, 5.10pm A tear is forming. It flashes in the late afternoon sun as she leans into the microphone. She’s not a stage professional, as... Read More →
S Sorrensen My place. Monday, 4.15pm What do you take into war? Something to hurt your opponents with, I reckon. That would be a good start. I’m packing my van, Morrison, for combat. We’re off; off to the northern wildlands... Read More →
S Sorrensen Lismore. Tuesday, 1.35pm I like Lismore when it floods. The river breaks its banks and the town breaks its normal reserve. There’s a buzz on the street you can hear above the rain drumming on the cafe umbrellas.... Read More →
S Sorrensen Brisbane. Saturday, 10.20pm The harmonies send a shiver through me. I don’t understand why, but when female voices combine in strong sweet collusion, it creates a fracture in my mundane world, and – as Leonard Cohen says –... Read More →
S Sorrensen Lismore. Thursday, 4.15pm The newspaper on the counter of the video store shouts ‘Court of Appeal approves fluoride for Northern Rivers’. Oh goody. Mass medication through the water supply. What a great idea. Actually, it’s always been a... Read More →
S Sorrensen Ballina. Tuesday, 3.45pm The pelican is a relaxed bird. One in this squadron of six has its neck lying back along its spine with its head looking forward from a feathery pillow as it swims towards shore. That’s... Read More →
Luckily, wine doesn’t come from fermented animals, otherwise vegetarianism would be a most forlorn option. S Sorrensen Lismore. Saturday, 6.20pm I’m staring down a chicken. Well, part of a chicken. It’s hard to tell what part of the chicken because... Read More →
S Sorrrensen Nimbin. Tuesday, 12.10pm ‘Would you like this bread?’ Michael asks me. Michael was strolling down Cullen Street, two loaves of bread swinging from his hand. Seeing me seated at a cafe table on the footpath, he stopped. Like... Read More →
S Sorrrensen Larnook. Tuesday, 11.45am The tractor expertly swivels right, turning its slasher over a tall grassy tuft, cropping it into horizontal swathes, and heads off down the hill, mowing into the remaining rectangle of overgrown grass. ‘God, I love... Read More →
S Sorrensen Pokolbin. Saturday, 9.05pm Sara is young and quite the expert on dogs. Mention ridgeback or collie and her face, pretty to start with, becomes radiant. ‘I have shown ridgebacks, you know,’ she announces to the table. ‘But I... Read More →