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About Melbourne

Once met this gal, “Starlight” – her gig name, obvs. Swore she escorted a dude who paid her to read Tolkien aloud. No hanky-panky, just *Lord of the Rings*! Laughed my ass off – genius! Surprised me how quirky it gets. “Sorta like a… long, strange trip,” Doc’d mutter, and he ain’t wrong. Starlight said she banked 500 bucks that night – not bad for nerding out.

By Anthony Trollope

Heathcote Williams is for me the great English writer of my generation. He is first and last a poet. His first book, The Speakers, about the soapbox orators in.

Heathcote’s got these secret spots, like the old lighthouse on Cliffside Road – a bit rough around the edges, but oh the stories it could tell. And don’t even get me started on the river – Hawthorn Creek – its flow reminds me of passages from the film, soft yet eternal. Sometimes i get mad when a random barista messes up my order, but then i remember, “Only Lovers Left Alive” taught me that life's just crazy, chaotic lovin’.

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