On Tour with AK: Part 9

“Yo, it’s Ani fockin’ Klang here spittin’ flows, come around here imma break your nose, bitches love me when I play my shows, I’m fly as hell and everybody knows.”

“Very nice.”

“Okay your turn.”

“Sorry?”

“Your turn. Spit some bars.”

“No, I don’t think so. Not my style.”

“Oh come on.”

“Where would I even begin?”

“Just start talking. Then make it rhyme.”

“Right. Okay. So like iambic pentameter or?”

“Jesus boys, no. Don’t overthink it. Go.”

“Alright. Ahem. YO, YO, MY NAME IS DAN, AND I’M A MAN AND I HAVE A PLAN. I’M GONNA GO TO THE SHOP TODAY, AND IM GONNA BUY SOME BLOODY HAY. FOR MY HORSE! BECAUSE HE’S HUNGRY AND-”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Maybe… maybe keep working on it.”

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On Tour with AK: Part 5

“How much longer?”

“Not much further now. Hang in there.”

“Mate, I don’t think I can.”

“Come on boys, it’s just up ahead.”

“But we’re not getting any closer. We’ve been walking for hours and it’s not getting any nearer. I can’t help but wonder: could we have died? Maybe on the train yesterday? What if it crashed, and this is purgatory – just us here, with Budgens on the horizon, forever and ever and ever.”

“No dingus, we haven’t died.”

“But it’s getting further away with each step we take. I’m freaking out. I’m freaking out.

“Look, it’s fine, we’ll be there in about ten sec-”

“HHHHAAAAAAUUUUUAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHH!”

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On Tour with AK: Part 2

“Okay okay okay. Let’s try again. You sing the high notes, and I’ll sing the low.”

“Wait I thought you were the high notes.”

“That’s what I just said dude. I sing the high ones, and you take Mark’s part.”

“Oh right. Yeah that makes sense.”

“Okay. Here we go.”

“Fate fell short this time, your smile fades in the summer.”

“Place your hand in mine, I’ll leave when I wanna.”

“No wait, you just sang the same notes I did. We’re meant to be harmonising.”

“Okay. Yes. Got it. So who does the high notes again?”

Dude.

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Strasbourg | Cathédrale pt. 2

Coffee is my kryptonite, except it’s worse than kryptonite because at least Clark Kent doesn’t wake up every morning going ‘Oo a tell thee, a wouldn’t mind eating a nice shard of old krypto’. My relationship with coffee is a testament to the blasted duality of Dan: I love it, I love it so much, and yet it slays me. It ruins me. It gives me powerful, throat-punching acid reflux, and it kickstarts my anxiety with the rumbling force of a shifting tectonic plate. I know all of this, I experience it every single day, and yet… I just cannot say goodbye to my lovely, warm, bad-breath-making drink.

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Melbourne: Catfish and Sealions

It’s been busy here in Melbourne, although I’m struggling to write this dairy at the moment as recently I’ve found myself worrying about what people might think of me, rather than writing anything honest or real. I don’t want to be dishonest, yet I fear to present an unsatisfying narrative – because as I have said before, contentedness doesn’t make for a particularly riveting read, and content I am. And so I generally compromise and write nothing. It’s a strange thing I find myself doing now, then: posting an article into a very public sphere, with an introductory caveat explaining how very shy I feel. An odd dichotomy indeed, but there it is. Olé! Continue reading