Melbourne: The Secret Wardrobe Piss

Good DAY to you sir,

I say, it is quite the downpour outside. It is positively tropical, and it is certainly very noisy as I sit here alone a-typing in northern Melbourneo, because I live in a converted warehouse, and the roof is made of tin or some other noisy metal; may the lord protect us if it hails. My bedroom is steadily flooding from some unseen leak as I type this and I do not know what to do so I have evacuated to the kitchen table, which has a marvellous view of the Queen Victoria Market and the skyscrapers of the Central Business District. I ate a bacon, egg and sausage sandwich for breakfast. I have not been drunk or had a cigarette in two days. I am doing tremendously, old chap. Continue reading

Australia: A Tad Cult-Esque

‘Ello gawjus.  So I’m back in Australia now, at the little hostel/commune/cult just outside Tabulam, which is an hour away from Casino, which is two hours from Byron Bay, which is the first place of any real interest for hundreds of kilometres. After Bangkok, which stressed me out and ruined my liver, it’s pleasant to be back in the wilderness, thrashing my vital organs in a more calming environment. Continue reading