now while I'm at it, over sharing or maybe just ramblin; here's a semi-recent piece of writing that wound up on the loungeroom floor, victim of a breeze drifting through one of the many cracks and crevices in our little fibro shack. I love my typewriter; much like shooting film, riding an old bike or an old surfboard - there is a very fine margin for error, and so I must balance enthusiasm, intent, and desire evenly. accompanied by great tunes by dear Tex; thanks Tex.

hi guys, here's a video of a hub regrease on a bloody sick late 90's Mongoose I'm fixing up & selling on. I feel a bit embarrassed or maybe just anxious about uploading this video, though I'm trying to convince myself it's not a big deal and my digital identity is a farce designed to make me feel better about myself. awful stuff. if you enjoy please let me know cause I'll make some more silly videos as I go along fiddling! big love! #mtb #mongoose

a sudden burst of inspiration this afternoon has me pulling the card out of a camera I love though through neglect - kind of guilty feeling but also it's nice to SEE & REMEMBER

okay so, here we have, perhaps, a visual representation, and certainly some ramble, about an experience I had at the Heritage Hotel last Friday evening. I heard there was gonna be some big ol' chrome ponys coming into town and meeting at the Herro, for the swap meet over at the dogs that weekend - so I got on the bloody bus and went up there to see what the hells going on (I am gonna get drunk). turns out there was a hell-of-a-fucking-lot going on. right up that little alley by the pub there, was maybe 50-60 enormous, noisy motorcycles, some long and skinny, others short and thick, or any mix of all that, and perhaps a 100 or so of the sorts of miscreants you would expect to be accompanying such an offensive display of righteousness. I got there around 4pm, maybe an hour until the sun disappears behind the escarpment. that hour is a blend of hard and gold, filtered and glistening, streams of ethereal warmth; all of which, falling all over the place and atop these, mostly, albeit not exclusively, greasy mongrels and their big chrome ponys. every few minutes you'd hear more of em on the approach, down-shifting, big blast of the throttle; a wide, clean swoop into the bottom of the one-way street, a bit more blast and some clutch work, sometimes the hand, sometimes the foot, before ripping up through the centre of the crowd trying to find somewhere to stick 7 or so feet of steel. gee whiz you'd be bloody thirsty; rollin in on something like that and having to park the cunt up in front of everyone. I don't mind the bus. saw some old friends, made some new ones, could not wipe that stupid look off my face, thanks for having me! I dunno who most of the people in these photos are. x

nine pictures of people I love, shot willy-nilly with the pocket-cam, & one Wesley took of me. getting a little overwhelmed with all the colour - though it's been fun to try some different things. I'm not really sure. I'm really not sure. ya see the difference there? enormous! be careful!

I've been real anxious about uploading piccies from this new camera - a little digi compact with a lot of buttons an dials - light, quiet, built-in-flash. though I figure this is a platform for me to share things.. so here's some pictures taken this week; havin a really nice an sweet, an exciting, an hell even fulfilling time - with my neat lil pocket cam. special mention to Zaf; who took me on a really psycho boog tour an helped me get more tubed than I ever been standing up!

this one goes out to me ol' mate Max - at the ripe ol' age of 73, after a full blown bloody howler weekend at the Illawarra Folk Festival; Maxy went for a swim, went into cardiac arrest, & fuckin' drowned. now this is a fella that's spent his entire life around the ocean. this shit happens. me n Maxy became friends down at the worst excuse for a point break on the east coast. I was riling him up a bit cause he was driving this fine little corolla on a set of mock rally wheels. coincidence really, he wasn't a rev head. however he loved shit old pushies & riding his boog. we spent a bit of time over the last year or so talking & talking & drinking coffee & talking. fuck the lad could talk; better than that though, he could listen. turns out he was a blues fanatic & a chronic bloody spiro pot-head - though he heard me when I spoke & that made me feel good. I saw him a couple weeks ago, after selling the old corolla, he'd bought a spankin' new one & just come back from a 15'000km round trip to West Aus with a lady friend of his, smokin' yandi & takin' it real bloody easy. I was pretty rattled when Jess rang & told me the news, though I immediately knew I'd have to pay tribute to the fella somehow. that evening I got In front of the typewriter & wrote some bloody jargon about dying. yesterday I spent a couple hours trying to space the shit out in a way that felt good on a little blue piece of A5 I got from the op-shop. today, after his funeral service where I learnt from a bunch of his geriatric mates he really was the loopy pot-head I thought he was; I used the PC to overlay a scan of that little blue piece of paper onto a picture of Maxy I took the day we met; staring out to sea. in tribute to ol' Maxy I printed that overlayed jargon onto a few A3's at Officeworks & this evening I drove round & wheat-pasted them up around Belza so punters could have something to think about while they shower at the beach. finally, I tried to play guitar & sing the typewriter jargon too. I did a shit bloody job of that but fuckin' I bet the lads up there drippin' wet, dead & laughing' his ass off about it. so forgive me for that, though ain't it nice to have ol' friends 🖤

Christmas, huh.. I'm not really about it. Katie reckons she ain't either - 'made up, capitalistic, bullshit.. aww but I like the idea of coming together..' so this year, we're putting one on for those that do not, can not, will not, or have simply had enough family. there'll be plenty of food and beer etc etc, bring yourself and your friend too. Come and go as you please, we'll be here. merry x from Corrimal

Sweet, sweet, sweet Rocco and I in our every-morning-spot, just watching, waiting. Thank you @alexandercooke_ for the picco! Big world out there, love you guys 🫶

Some real light hearted business - I mean what's the deal gettin so caught up in it all, ya know? images outta my favourite camera - dev & scan by @rewindphotolab

Sometimes things are nice and sometines they are not but these are pictures from my phone the crisis the culprit the rocket Georgie's tribute to the bin man really nice at the beach belza corner dogs belza stairs man soaking free admission jan at the top of my favorite hill baby Brit

My 69 year old father lives in the garage of a house that belongs to a pathological hoarder. He's a funny man, my father. I visited him the day before his birthday, that night dad, my dog Rocco and I all slept in his bed together. Dad and Rocco fell in love that night, perhaps one of the most touching moments of my life. The board pictured is a 66' -67' Bennett that's been laying forgotten in the grass far too long. A piece of Sydney surf history, lonely. I grew up riding a mid 90's 9'6, triple stringer, downrail, single fin Bennett. Safe to say I'm doing everything I can to get my hands on this relic - to restore, ride and learn from. It's a big world out there, count ya blessings.