Slim Dusty's Voice is Trapped in my Brain!

I don't really want to but I think I might have to make a financial claim for my pain and suffering.

Recently I blogged about my recent journey on the Indian Pacific. How I thought it would be somewhere in between an Agatha Christie novel and the Raj. Nu-uh! It was sort of like being on a suburban train, like maybe the all stations to Penrith via Yagoona and Mount Colah. The suburban train experience was because a) the train never really went over 60km per hour, and there were frequent strange stops when the driver felt like he or she needed a nap. Anyway, enough bitchin.

The real reason I want to sue Great Southern Railways is that while travelling, I contracted a terrible disease. A brain-worm. A brain-worm is what happens when a song travels around your skull like a frustrated working sheepdog stuck in a suburban back-yard. Or like when a mosquito is trapped in your small kitchen and it buzzes around going NEEE! NEEEE!

My brain worm goes like this "The Indian Pacific Spans the Land" over and over again with bushwhackers style backing music. I hope it goes away soon!

The Darkest Material on Earth.

Milwaukee's goth scene will never die!

US researchers say they have made the darkest material on Earth, a substance so black it absorbs more than 99.9 per cent of light. It's made, not from the tears of Robert Smith (that's goth juice hairspray) but from upright carbon fibres. The makers of the darkest material on earth are going to be ZILLIONAIRES!
Why?
Because emos the world over won't be able to get enough of it.
They can make clothes, hair dye, ugly platform boots with inexplicable, non-functional buckles. No goth or emo will be considered cool without The Darkest Material on Earth.
They can make vinyl bags, body piercings, guitars, outfits for Vince Noir.
A word of warning, though. According to the latest issue of Cheekbone, just delivered to me by ninja, it's already out of style.

The Train

On Saturday night I had possibly the most un-rock and roll Saturday night. Of. My. Life.
It was the Indian Pacific's fault.
The night of horrors started just after we pulled out of Sydney's Central Station, and the loud speakers crackled to life. They spawned a soundtrack of terror- voiced by BOTH Slim Dusty and Bud Tingwell. Obviously designed to appeal to folks like my dear grandfather, who sit there in their Gold Kangaroo class sleepers reminiscing about the war. I think people like that probably like Slim Dusty and Bud Tingwell. Ol Bud is supposed to be a much loved actor, by the way. I wouldn't know, I haven't seen him in anything. Didn't he die recently?
Anyway, Slim has written a whole song about the Indian Pacific. I know all the words now! I think I will have to have a conversation about that with my counsellor, I feel I've been scarred for life.
After we crossed the Blue Mountains (at walking pace, goddamm, or indeed walker pace) the real fun started. The foetal position, Will This Ever End, Oh My God, sciatica inducing horrible pain of the Day/Night Sleeper. While the gin-soaked sots in their sleeper carriages stretched their legs and massaged themselves with moisturiser from their free Indian Pacific toilet bags, I tried to sleep. It was OK until the bastard next to me started snoring.
I started to fantasise about clobbering him on the head with one of my thongs. Thinking about it like I was some sort of creepy stalking serial killer, debating with my creepier instincts. Then my id got the better of my good manners.
"Oi!" I said. "Mate", I said. "YOU SNORE REALLY LOUDLY IN THAT POSITION!" I snapped. "I just thought I'd tell you" I continued feebly. "Sorry" he said "I don't usually sleep like this". No you don't... because it is totally inhuman and horrible!
One of my friends used to work on the trains, and she said the train people partied really hard, all night every night. Now I know why... they can't bloody sleep!
The first night in my own bed, I slept for eleven and a half hours. That was more like it.
Next time, It's Gold Kangaroo gin sottism all the way! Or, I'll fly in an aeroplane like sensible people!