The Bedroom Philosopher

Justin Heazlewood – A life

1980:

• Born in Burnie Hospital on the north-west coast of Tasmania on June 12 at 7:33am.
• I meet my Mum, Nan, Pop and Uncles.

1983:

• Insist that my name is Carl, to our neighbour, for some reason.

1984:

• Write my first ever creative piece. A poem:
  “Going up hill is hard to do,
  not unless you just say ‘q’
  then someone will come up and say ‘hi you’
  then you’ll think of something better to do.”

1985:

• In kindergarten I write in my book: “My name is: Justin and I like: writing.”
• First listen to Popcorn on a tape – it blows my little mind.

1986:

• Get lost at Devonport country music festival until a man in a big hat takes me up on stage and makes the whole crowd wave at me.

1987:

• After being given a choice between the Scouts and the Surf Club, I begin a seven year career with the Burnie Surf Life Saving Club nippers. I can’t tie a knot but I look good in Speedos.

1988:

• Stop wetting the bed.
• Queen comes to Burnie. The lady, not the band.
• Have first major tantrum as an artist when I am unhappy with my efforts to draw a Lamborghini in the story I am writing about a talking car. Spelling it is also hard.

1990:

• Become seriously interested in music, in particular the Rage top 50. Each week I take note of the positions of songs and how much they’ve moved since last week.
• First hear Guru Josh’s ‘Infinity’ – ’1990’s: Time For The Guru.’ For most of my life this will become my favourite song of all time.

1991:

• Under the influence of my Uncle Ken, who has forged his own music career, I start playing guitar. ‘Song Of Joy’ is the first thing I learn.
• Gain first acting role, I play Dick Whittington in our class presentation of Dick Whittington.

1992:

• Somehow, go out with my first ever girlfriend, Tenille Alford. She breaks up with me after getting a lift in my Mum’s yellow Volkswagen beetle. We never kiss.
• Have first taste of live music performance. An instrumental duet with my best friend Nick Muir and ‘Way Out West’ with our music class outside Kmart.
• Buy first ever album – Def Leppard’s ‘Adrenalize’ on cassette. Mrs French won’t let me put it on at a sock dance as the lyrics are too suggestive.
• Finish my time at Montello Primary School.

1993:

• Start high school at Parklands High. I have the wrong jeans, the wrong shoes, the wrong haircut, but have not learnt to be self conscious yet.
• First hear ‘Loser’ by Beck. It blows my bowl cut.
• Become a Christian during a religious based youth camp when Matt, our twenty-something cabin leader suggests he prays for us and asks for God to enter our hearts. It seems fair enough.
• Discover some old 70′s porn mags in my Uncle’s collection of things at Nan & Pop’s. While looking at the pictures is okay, one day I read one of the erotic stories. The descriptions of sex disturbs me for weeks, and I develop the kiddie version of depression. (See: The Birds & The Bees)
• Keep a diary that I will later use to comic effect.

1994:

• Drift away from my primary school friends and manage to dwell on the fringes of the cool group. Being a wise-cracking nerd with coke-bottle glasses gives me loads of novelty value. Girls are not attracted to this novelty value. Learn to be self-conscious.
• Finish my time in the Burnie Surf Club. In my senior year I am voted club captain.
• After wearing too much hair gel and sitting next to Elvis Connelly on the school bus, Grade ten Matthew Rolls says the immortal words: ‘Hey look, there’s Elvis and the Fonz.’ Earning me the Tasmanian nickname that will stay with me the rest of my life. I spell it ‘Phonze,’ to break away from the traditional Happy Days character.

1995:

• Start wearing contact lenses.
• First hear ‘Here’s Johnny’ by Hocus Pocus. When everyone else is listening to ‘Dookie’ by Green Day, I become obsessed with the trashy hardcore techno of the time like Tokyo Ghetto Pussy and ‘Forever Young’ by Interactive. Whenever ‘Here’s Johnny’ comes on at a school social, everyone turns to me accusingly.
• Write my first serious and comedy songs. ‘I Will Never Leave You’ is a six minute ballad about a father going away to war. ‘Home And Away Song’ is a one minute ditty satirising the recent events on Home and Away. I play the song at the school talent quest, along with ‘Don’t’ with my best mate Josh Earl, which we steal off a Lano and Woodley performance I saw on the Today Show. We win the audience vote but get no prizes from the judges.
• Record first ever tape of my music Justin’s Guitar Songs. It is a mixture of originals and covers including ‘Way Out West’ and ‘Day In The Life Of A School Kid.’ It is recorded sitting on the toilet, with my walkman mircophone blu-takked to an indoor clothesline. (See: Bedroom Records)
• Write a letter to my cousin Carly I’ve never met. Her Father, my Uncle had a falling out with my Nan & Pop, so although she lives in the same town, we haven’t seen each other since we were children. She writes back, beginning a fruitful friendship.

1996:

• Have my first proper kiss with a girl, Chantel, on a Christian camp. We bump teeth.
• Take up regular 6am swimming training at the Burnie Swimming Club, though I don’t compete in meets and none of the private school kids ever talk to me. I win all my races at the school swimming carnival, but miss out on the record for the fifty metre freestyle by .1 of a second as Josh was teasing me about my bathers and I missed the start. Later, a grade nine girl says: ‘when you were on the blocks, we could see your penis.’ I go on to be the Division B Inter-High swimming champion in my age group.
• Become Vice-President of the SRC.
• Girls finally notice me. I manage a string of flings, including Natalie, a friend of Carly’s. It means we get to hang out in person after a year of writing letters.
• Get first job at KFC, frying chicken and cleaning ovens out the back. It’s hot, greasy, demanding work. I make $4.70 an hour.
• Record first proper collection of songs Ad-Liberation. Includes ‘End Of The World’ and ‘Thought She Loved Me,’ a ballad about breaking up with a girl, even though I’d never had a proper girlfriend – I just figure that’s what you write songs about.
• Have first ever drug experience, smoking a joint with my best friend Billy. I freak out, think I am going to die and get driven to hospital by his Mum. She is not impressed. My heart continues to beat irregularly for most of the year. Our friendship doesn’t really survive.
• Perform again in the high school talent contest. We do a bunch of sketches I steal off a local uni revue, as well as writing a parody of ‘Gangsta’s Paradise,’ called ‘Parklands Paradise.’
• Begin first vaguely proper relationship. It ends a week later because the girl cheats on me. She apologises by sticking the lyrics to Roxette’s ‘It Must Have Been Love’ to my locker.
• Write short film script Infinity for English writing project. It’s about a D.J. who claims if you plug speaker wires directly into your ear, while high on a certain drug, you can ‘become’ the song you’re listening to. It’s a reflection of the intencity with which I trip out while listening to techno songs in my bedroom. ‘Infinity’ by Guru Josh is still a huge influence, particularly the arpeggiated synth breakdown.
• Take up smoking after having eight Peter Jackson super-mild’s in a row with Danny Flight behind the Parklands High School gym.
• Enrol in The Writing School, a creative writing correspondence course I find in That’s Life magazine.
• Finish up High School. The end of year party is at Jamie Upson’s house. I am hugging my male friends, pashing Jennifer Leeson, swinging on a clothesline, sculling Hahn Ice to TISM’s ‘He’ll Never Be (An Old Man River)’ from the Triple J’s Hottest 100 with the ice cream on it.
• Begin first major relationship, via letter, with Erin, a girl one grade below me whom I’ve had a crush on all year.

1997:

• Get to Hellyer College. Become extremely intimidated by all the Year 12’s and end up lurking at the TAFE cafeteria eating chips and gravy with close male friends for the entire year.
• Record second collection of songs on cassette Rhetorical Verses.
• Perform in the College musical ‘Godspell.’ I am a member of the chorus, and also part of the warm up entertainment as people walk in. I write one of the first songs for future album Birthmark called ‘Gospel’ about how God “wouldn’t leave you in the lurch” or “fall asleep in church.”
• Lose virginity, in a hotel room, after a Silverchair concert, in Hobart.
• Find out from Billy that the joint he’d been given a year ago had been laced with L.S.D.
• In relative secrecy from my friends, I continue to pursue Christianity. I pray every night and attend church with my Mum most Sundays, a new experience for both of us.

1998:

• Hit year 12. Get confident.
• Become president of the SRC. My most successful campaign pitch is a poster with a piece of toast stuck to it that reads: “This is a piece of toast. Vote for Phonze.”
• Find a new gang of crazy arty friends.
• Through my new best friend Lix, a melodramatic girl who ranks her friends from one to ten, I begin my involvement with ‘Youth Insearch Australia’ an organisation that holds camps to help teenagers deal with issues in their lives.
• Turn 18 – despite my Mum’s requests not to, I stage an unauthorised party at Hiclare Hall which 200 people turn up to and trash to the value of $300. Hold a benefit in school cafeteria, raise $80. (See: My Disastrous 18th)
• Begin playing music regularly at school concerts. Write comedy songs ‘Vee-Dub,’ ‘The Environment Song,’ ‘Disco Chicken’ and a very on the money parody of Denis Leary’s ‘Asshole’ called ‘I’m an Aussie,’ which I swear would have done well if released at the time.
• Break up with Erin in our 19th month. I do the breaking. I begin a long distance relationship almost straight away with Jade, a co-Youth Insearch leader from Deloraine.
• Discover op shopping after wandering into a second hand store and finding a chocolate brown ‘New Breed’ press stud shirt. (See: Little Op Shop Of Horrors)
• Mum starts recieving regular visits from travelling Mormons. I sit in on the lessons. While I find them friendly, I can’t get over how pushy they are about being baptised in their church.
• Have second major drug experience, and my first ever bong. I can’t remember much about but apparently I spend the night talking to people out of my bum and sticking clothes pegs to my face. Again decide that perhaps drugs aren’t for me.
• Write short story Noisy Skin for my Writers Workshop major piece, about a boy who goes to school naked for no apparent reason and has charges pressed against him by a girl who takes offence. He is befriended by the school counsellor, a former hippie, who encourages his actions.
• Write ‘Smells Like Hellyer Spirit’ which becomes the unofficial Year twelve leavers anthem.
• Win school prize for creative writing and theatre performance subject award.
• Decide to do BA in Professional Writing at the University of Canberra after picking up a pamphlet in the career advisor’s room. I apply without even bothering to check if it’s offered at any other uni’s. Canberra seems fine as my Uncle Ken lives in nearby Michaelago. Up until that point I’d been firmly set on the concept of staying in Burnie and training to be a cadet journalist at The Advocate. My theatre teacher, Amanda Mureste, talks me out of it.

1999:

• Record my first CD, Birthmark, in Marcus Wynwood’s bedroom in Penguin in the January holidays. It is a mix of comedy and serious songs, ranging from ‘Disco Chicken’ to ‘Down By The Sea’ written after a bad day with my Mum. It features dodgy singing but some eclectic uses of backings and harmonies. It includes a mock tribute for my hypothetical school band ‘Community Scooter’ where I refer to myself as “the genius, the enigma, the John Lennon.”
• Continue to go out with Jade, but she withdraws because she knows I’m going away. This upsets me and causes us to have a messy break-up.
• With one week until I leave for Canberra, I meet Jacci at a party and start going out with her. We can’t get over the fact we have the same initials (JMH), are both Gemini’s and both go for Carlton. Jade is furious and refuses to speak to me. As an explanation of how much I loved her, I post her a detailed diary of our relationship that I was planning to give her on our one year anniversary. She burns it.
• Move to Canberra.
• Move into University Ressies, the largest in Australia. Befriend Tammy, Adam, Matt and the gang through Three Dice, the student theatre company. The society runs theatresports, plays and alcohol based theatre camps down at Bateman’s Bay.
• Audition for my first play Psycho Beach Party. I’m given the role of gay surfer ‘Provoloney,’ and told I have to pash Matt on stage. Suddenly it feels like I’m at uni. I don’t tell Mum.
• Star in second semester play Baby With The Bathwater as ‘Daisy,’ a bisexual boy who’s been brought up as a girl his whole life.
• Form the band Urban Turban with Adam and Matt. We play our first gig at 9am the morning after an all-night dance party. The limited audience are hung over, crotchety and throw rubbish at us. At the end of one song Matt says, very slowly and very precisely: “Fuck you all.”
• Adam and I win the Uni ressies talent night Ressies Revue with ‘I’m an Aussie’ and a new song ‘Spankees Lunch.’ For our efforts we win a mystery flight to Brisbane. As we have never been there before we wander about aimlessly before deciding to go watch the latest James Bond film at the cinemas.
• After maintaining a relationship where we only see each other 17% of the time, Jacci and I break up. I almost immediately start going out with Margi, a girl involved in Three Dice two years older than me. I am turning into a serial monogamist.
• Toby, the president of Three Dice, persuades me that I shouldn’t call myself Phonze because it isn’t very cool. Based on a 3am rendition of ‘Spankees Lunch’ he gives me the nickname “Spankees.”
• Make a vow not to get my hair cut for a year.

2000:

• Margi comes to visit me in Burnie – my Canberra and Tasmanian worlds combining for the first time. We have some fun in Cradle Mountain, but there are some dodgy moments inc. taking her to a Burnie pub where a man with no ears accosts us, and choosing to go and drink with my school buddies, leaving her behind.
• As soon as I get back to Canberra she breaks up with me. It’s all the more awkward as I’m due to stay at her place as Ressies hasn’t opened up yet. Toby knows the reasons why, but doesn’t tell me. This is the beginning of the power he holds over me.
• After being best friends for a year, Tammy and I kiss and start going out.
• Continue my pursuit of Christianity by making contact with the youthful Catholic priests on campus. They pressure me about my sexual involvement with Tammy.
• Start writing for the University magazine Curio. The editor is exasperated that “no one round here gives a shit”.
• Via Youth Insearch, I attend a three-day workshop of popular American motivational coach, Tony Robbins. This includes a session where I walk on hot coals. (It does hurt.) While I find a lot of good in the workshops, I am amazed that Tony doesn’t turn up on the third day and instead gets his ‘helpers’ to run the sessions.
• Star in Skin, a comedy about the porn industry written by Toby. I play ‘Jack Hammer,’ a pornstar who ends up being gay. I start to wonder if I’m being typecast. In the play the actors are asked to simulate sex scenes, wear strap ons, and watch porn on the theatre camp. Many of us, me included, are not very comfortable with this. We are made to feel silly and I end up keeping quiet, much to my personal detriment.
• ‘Jack Hammer’ has a secret identity as an Aussie bogan. I take the role so seriously that I have my long blondish hair, not trimmed for a full year, cut into a mullet. I return home to Tasmania with this mullet. One night I am out in a Burnie pub wearing a West Indies cricket shirt. I still get called poof.
• The Uni film society makes a short film based on my story Noisy Skin which I wrote in Year 12. It’s about a boy who goes to school naked. I play the lead. Tammy brings her parents on set one day. I am standing in a carpark wearing speedos and a scarf.
• Move out of Uni ressies into a sharehouse dubbed ‘The TAJ’ (our initials) with Tammy and Adam. We take great delight recording a hit phone message: “This is no mirage, you have called the TAJ, so please leave a mess-age.”
• Adam and I start the ‘Harmonica Lewinski’s Muso’s Club’ on campus, as a way to create our own folk gigs. We end up spending all the club money on sausages and haircuts.
• For one of my Literary Studies presentations on Australian Literature I take along a tape deck and play a synth version of the ‘War of the worlds’ theme while performing a lively interpretive dance. After a minute I press stop and read my essay as if nothing has happened. No one ever mentions the dance.
• Complete my leadership training with Youth Insearch. At the graduation I am MC, which I find incredibly difficult in my increasingly troubled state. (see: The Hardest Thing I’ve Ever Had To Do)
• Enter the ACT campus band competition with Urban Turban and The Harmonica Lewinski’s, so we can separate our serious and comedy songs. The Harmonica Lewinski’s make it into the ACT finals. One of the judges writes: “Guitar playing seemed to be out of time, but couldn’t tell if this was on purpose as some kind of musical protest.” It isn’t.
• Adam and I win ‘Ressies Revue’ again, with a self-indulgent forty minute comedy blowout we knock up the night before. Set includes ‘Home Brand Man,’ an acoustic rendition of ‘Rockafella Skank,’ Adam’s song ‘Rainbow Honey Eater,’ and me taping the 500+ audience saying an answering machine greeting for me to use on my ressies phone.
• Three Dice don’t have a second semester play, so instead Toby creates Theatre Jam. It’s like serious theatresports, where we improvise short plays that last up to twenty minutes. Some of them are very good. Despite reeling from Skin, I’m under the spell of Toby’s charisma. Everyone else involved is older than me, and tease me for being such a convincing mental cripple.
• Spend a lot of time down by Lake Ginninderra, writing in my journal, trying to regain control over my life.
• Record two debut albums for both bands in three days at my Uncle Ken’s studio in Michaelago. Highlights include ‘I’m the one who loves you (I’m the one that needs you)’ which is written while we wait for Ken’s computer to work. While Songs By The Bushfire captures the spontaneous, madcap energy of the Harmonica’s, there are mixed feelings about the rushed nature of Meet…Urban Turban.
• Win ABC radio’s Heywire competition for Canberra, with a three minute radio documentary done in the style of a Triple J ‘J-file’ about how Urban Turban struggled to find a scene because Canberra Uni students are all about raves and doof.
• Bring home Radiohead’s Kid A. Adam and I lay on the floor in the dark and listen to it in it’s entirety.
• Secretly, I’ve spent most of the year feeling very depressed.

2001:

• Walk the overland track, a five day bushwalk from Lake St. Clair to Cradle Mountain with my Nan, aged 75. (My Nan, not me). This includes a near-death experience, after getting caught on a precarious rock face on Barn’s Bluff.
• Return home to Canberra. Attend a five day national Heywire camp, which includes an all expenses paid trip – to Canberra.
• Start writing for streetpress BMA. I repair Curio‘s lagging relationship with record companies and score stacks of free CD’s.
• Read A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. It’s the best book I’ve ever read and is a great influence on my writing.
• After having a complete fallout in confidence, I go out to my Uncle Ken’s farm, and write what will become my column. I call it Being Justin Heazlewood, inspired by the superb Spike Jonze movie. It is an autobiographical conversation about myself to myself. It’s published in Curio.
• Become co-president of Three Dice.
• Urban Turban play at Indyfest, Canberra’s showcase of indie bands. A girl in the audience describes the set as “nice.”
• Enter Triple J’s Raw Comedy – I make it into the ACT finals, but find it all a bit mucky. I am beaten by a guy telling stoner jokes.
• The Harmonica Lewinski’s rerecord ‘Spankees Lunch’ at a studio in Wollongong. We continue to do ultra sporadic gigs at the Pot Belly and Shooters. Late in the year, almost a year after recording them, we launch the two albums at the University of Canberra bar with a “CD Lunch.” This wordplay joke backfires, as even though it’s advertised as 6pm, most of the punters turn up at lunch time. Urban Turban play their first and last gig at key Canberra establishment Tilley’s. Matt pays out the now deceased David Branson who did a very strange poem about eating his own face.
• After growing unrest, Urban Turban disbands.
• Best Tassie friend Lix is concerned that the nickname ‘Phonze’ isn’t surviving on the mainland. She takes it personally that I’m calling myself something else.
• As a 21st present to myself, with the help of Uncle Ken, I make The Conception Album, a collection of about 30 little musical snippets and demos I’d recorded on my walkman over the last three years. The collection includes the riffs for future songs  ’I'm So Over Girls’, ‘Weird Dream’ and ‘Folkstar.’
• Continue my pursuit of Christianity. I find myself growing increasingly alienated from the fun sexy world broadcast around me.
• Have first solo comedy gig, supporting Rash Rider and Pommy Johnson in the UC Bar. It goes well.
• For my major writing project, I write a feature length play, Cyclone Beryl, a comedy about the Australian Music Industry. I swrite the first draft out on Ken’s farm, and while I’m there September 11 happens. Ken doesn’t have a TV so I listen to it all on the radio, which is haunting.
• Graduate University, receiving a High Distinction for my play.

2002:

• Come to terms with not having school on after eighteen years.
• Start working at the Canberra Labor Club. As I am the only employee with mid-length hair and glasses, I pick up the nicknames: “Shaggy”, “Shags”, “Shagadelic”, “Shagster”, “Harry Potter”, “Austin Powers”, “The guy from Oasis”, “The guy from Weezer”, “The guy from The Lovin’ Spoonful”, “The guy from The Seekers”, “The guy out of Pulp”, “Keith Richards”, “John Lennon”, “George Harrison” and “The security guard in A Clockwork Orange.”
• Begin training with Lifeline to be a telephone counsellor.
• After attending a Christian camp, and feeling tired of sitting on the fence, I vow to fully commit by becoming celibate. This doesn’t do wonders for my sex life.
• The Harmonica’s enter Raw Comedy with ‘I’m an Aussie.’ We are well received but get nowhere. Around this time ‘Bloke’ is released by Chris Franklin, and I feel an opportunity has slipped by.
• After being asked to present at the Heywire Youth Forum, I write ‘Radio Edit Of My Soul,’ with the express notion that Triple J’s Morning Show will be doing a live broadcast the next day, will be in the audience, like it, and want me to play it live on air.
• This happens.
• After nearly leaving, I double back and vaguely ask Vicki Kerrigan if there’s any way I can be further involved. She suggests hooking up with Jim Trail and recording some stuff. I do. Vicki describes my songwriting as “Bedroom Philosophy.” Francis Leach plays my songs every Tuesday morning, paying me $70 per song.
• Record the first batch, including ‘Dr Karl’ a parody of Aqua’s ‘Dr Jones’ sending up the fact Dr Karl changes his mind on-air a lot. At the time he seems touched but Tammy later hears him refer to it as “that awful Dr Karl song.”
• After hearing ‘My Nan Really Likes Radiohead,’ Gaby Brown starts replaying them on Saturday mornings, paying me $30 per song. I’m desperately excited, and feel like I could make a career from my talents.
• Become songwriting obsessed. I am often found hiding near the poker machines at work, writing lyrics on the back of a Keno ticket. During this period I write ‘Happy Cow,’ ‘Golden Gaytime.’ ‘Generation ABC,’ ‘Jesus On Big Brother’ and ‘Folkstar.’
• More and more people hear me on the radio. I find myself playing down their compliments and acting sheepish.
• Film two pilot episodes for The Bedroom Philosopher Show for ABC’s ‘Fly TV’ in Sydney. It is a combination of film clips for my songs and sketches. It includes me trying to be a model for Chadwick’s agency in Sydney, and going to a bowls club to record their reaction to Radiohead. I am incredibly chuffed and think this might be the big break I’ve always dreamt of. I’m worried about telling Matt because I think he’ll be jealous.
• Begin writing humorous opinion column Struth Be Told for Canberra streetpress – a progression of  Being Justin Heazlewood.
• Receive my first fan letter. An email asking about ‘Jesus On Big Brother.’ I re-read it several times, amazed that a stranger would write to me.
• Begin the routine of writing a blog style diary on my laptop. I write about 2000 words every two or three days. This coincides with an increased distance between Tammy and I.
• There is growing tension between Adam and I also. Due to contention over its consistency, the Urban Turban album is deleted. I take my songs and turn it into a lightly distributed solo album.
• After two and a half years Tammy and I break-up. It’s vaguely mutual yet ambiguous.
• The Harmonica Lewinski’s break-up. We play our last gig at the Pot Belly in late June.
• Do strange, solo guest spot at Ressies Revue as “Urban Turban.”
• We move out of the TAJ, under a hail of stress, resentment and curtain linings that our landlord says we have to wash and iron. Adam and I don’t speak for three months. It’s the first proper fight I’ve had with a friend.
• Move into another house in the same street. I live with two girls, one of them is a brat – either watching her Schoolies video or bemoaning me leaving bananas in the cupboard.
• In August, I do my first solo spots as The Bedroom Philosopher at the Street Theatre, The Lighthouse and the Phoenix Bar. I decide to wear my Nan’s 1970’s blue ski-suit. I’m panicked, bumbling, nervous and awkward. It seems convenient to make this my character.
• Record ‘Ian Thorpe Was Bored,’ the last song for my Morning Show segment. They are going on holidays, and I can sense the wind-down of my own song writing blitz. I have written and aired twenty-five new songs in the six month period.
• Do first gig in Sydney, MCing a CD Launch. The crowd seems to like me but all the bands seem to hate me. I meet the girl I will eventually move to Sydney for.
• After deciding to move to Sydney, I experience an anxiety dream where a black shape is flying along the road outside Nan & Pop’s house. It has a frightened man’s voice and keeps saying “I’m scared I want my Mummy.” It flies through the window towards my face and I catch it. I wake up with a shadowy imprint in one eye. I rush to the ophthalmologist. He says I’ve suffered a retinal hemorrhage. One of blood vessels has tried to push through my retina, like weeds grow through cracks in the footpath. I’m terrified, but it heals quickly and leaves only a small but permanent  point of damage in my vision.
• Controversially, I go out with the girl ten years my elder, say goodbye to Canberra and move to Sydney.

2003

• Hate Sydney.
• Go on the dole.
• Discover that the girl I am in love with lives in a cockroach infested inner city office space, directly next to her father’s office. whose secretary is her jealous ex boyfriend.
• Move in with my cousin’s family in Blacktown. They are three generation of women. The grandma doesn’t let me watch The Simpsons or use the phone after nine.
• Discover the girl I moved to Sydney for is neurotic and unconvinced I love her because I’m so “young and naive.’” For the first time in my life I have my entire existence and belief system questioned to the core. I discover a desperate urge to prove myself.
• After finding a mysterious $600 in my bank from the ABC, with no explanation and with key encouragement from Matt – two days before the deadline – I enter my debut show Living On The Edge…Of My Bed in the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.
• After borrowing $1000 off Nan and Pop, I produce 500 copies of the Bedroom Philosopher album of the same name. Nan & Pop Records is born. The album is a modest, unmastered affair, featuring twenty tracks from my Triple J segment. Having already decided on a tracklist, at the last minute I get the Sydney girl to pick them, so that whoever will own the CD, will find that the CD track listing is different to the album listing. We think this is funny. Friends and radio DJ’s do not.
• To promote my Melbourne show, I set the world record for continuous performance of John Farnham’s ‘You’re The Voice’ outside Flinders Street Station. I plan to go for twelve hours but nine seems like enough. While my voice holds up okay my wrist develops RSI from strumming. I appear as the odd spot on Channel Seven news that night, they say I am promoting the comedy festival and don’t mention my show.
• Perform nine shows at The Butterfly Club. I am nervous as hell, in a small room, performing two-bit material in my Nan’s ski suit. Each night I end up crawling off stage drenched and confused.
• Under Matt’s advice, I stop shampooing my hair, deciding that the shampoo and conditioner routine is a scam, and that I’m sick of my hair being too fluffy to manage every second day. My hair soon adapts, learning to ‘self oil.’
• Perform two sets at the National Folk Festival in Canberra. During one impassioned version of ‘Disco Chicken’ I roll on my guitar lead so that it pushes through the wood of my guitar. I borrow Soursob Bob’s guitar and almost do the same thing with his. My stage ethos is that songs and comedy aren’t enough, I need to be a madman clown as well.
• Discover Tug Dumbly and Bennito Di Fonzo’s regular poetry/music night ‘Bardflys.’ It’s my saving grace in Sydney. (See: Bardflys: A Sketch)
• Move house, and live with the girl that will inspire the song ‘Megan the Vegan.’ I’m told I can’t eat meat in the house.
• Tammy and I remain terrific friends. The Sydney girl is extremely jealous and threatened by this.
• Play a gig at the Cat and Fiddle pub which no-one turns up to. I have to contribute my own money to pay for the sound guy and then walk home in light rain.
• Complete my first and last two weeks of full-time work, at a call centre as a Vodaphone consultant. I’m on “Team Schumacher.”
• After nine months I break up with the Sydney girl. It is the most emotionally damaging relationship of my life. After remaining friends for a while I discover she still has my email password auto saved on her laptop and has been reading my mail.
• In both my personal and professional life, I consider myself to be in a rut.
• After an intense ten year journey, I decide that I am no longer Christian. I still believe in God. (See: If You Could Rid The Earth Of One Thing What Would It Be?)
• Play my first gig at a comedy venue, the ‘Mic in Hand’ in Glebe. Until this point I have considered myself a musician who happens to be funny, rather than the other way round. I do a ten minute support slot before Wil Anderson. I play ‘My Nan Really Likes Radiohead’ first up. People go crazy. It’s the best reaction I’ve ever had to my stuff. During a version of ‘Here’s Johnny’ the microphone stand droops down due to the vibrations from the guitar, I go with it and end up on my knees – the place erupts. It is a sublime, magical moment.
• Chris Macdonald, who will go on to be my manager, praises me after the show. My confidence is restored.
• After being driven to near-madness by the extreme exploits and clickiness of the ‘Megan the Vegan’ house, I move to Sydenham, living with Jim, a sixty year old retired Canadian school teacher and a Vietnemese Uni student. We live directly next to a train line and underneath a flight path. One day there is a plane and train going by at the same time and the phone rings and I scream.
• Find myself unable to create a follow up segment on Triple J, but do some work experience with the Morning Show. I produce four segments combining voxpops, music and poetry called The Heart Of The Bollocks.
• Create a fortnightly Ezine ‘LapTopping.’ It fits in with my desire to keep in touch with as many people as i can.
• Hold a CD Launch in Canberra. To promote it, I set the world record for continuous performance of Daryl Braithwaite’s ‘The Horses’ while riding on a horse carousel, on Melbourne Cup day (Thirty minutes). I want to go longer but the owner of ride reckons “that is enough.”
• A year after filming the pilot for The Bedroom Philosopher Show, Fly TV goes bust and sends me two un-aired videos. It’s only about a quarter of what I filmed with them. While I am sitting on my bed staring at them, I receive a one-off anonymous text from a Struth Be Told reader telling me to keep it up.
• Decide to leave Sydney.

2004

• Perform a spot at the Falls Festival in Marion Bay, Tasmania, alongside my best mate from school, Josh Earl, who is now also doing musical comedy.
• Perform at the Hobart Comedy Festival. I do 10-45 minute spots over 16 nights. (the 45 minute spot was supposed to be 15). The Hobart audiences are warm and supportive and my confidence soars.
• Fall nutso in love with Janita, a vague and cryptic fellow comedian. Spend the best part of the year being embroiled in her world.
• Perform at the Hobart Comedy Gala, supporting the likes of Lano and Woodley in front of 1600 people. I get to tell Frank Woodley how Josh and I used to rip off their stuff. He is interested.
• To promote the festival I set the world record for ‘Boon Rapping’ (Reading David Boon’s autobiography in a hip-hop style. (12.5 minutes). I want to go for longer but the Comedy Festival promotor reckons “that is enough.”
• After a couple of years of passionate suggestions from friends, I move to Melbourne.
• Love Melbourne.
• Move into a terrific share house in Clifton Hill with four others and a troubled cat named Squirty.
• Participate in three shows for the Big Laugh Comedy Festival in Parramatta.
• With a lot of help from Chris, I put my second show In Bed With My Doona in the Melbourne Comedy Festival. It is a runaway success. (It runs away with a lot of our money). During this phase I am donning short green pyjamas, and often make the joke that I look like Harry Potter working at a gay Irish Macdonalds in the 1970′s. I also spend a lot of time talking to Kerry The Metaphysical Drummer. The show gets some good reviews, and one Saturday night I have a killer opening, but manage to blow it half way through. I keep trying to pull off semi-improvised, schizophrenic conversations with myself, but my skills aren’t developed enough to keep the vibe afloat. This night is full of important industry types and an Age reviewer. I demand never to know when important people are in the audience.
• To promote the show, I perform a trademark publicity stunt. This time it’s a ‘bed-in’ protest, as I say I’m being deported back to Tasmania for not having the right passport. I lie down on a mattress outside town hall. Conveniently, Triple J breakfast are doing a live broadcast anyway, so there’s a lot of girls running around in their pyjamas and it appears as though they could have come out for me. The ‘difficult fourth stunt’ confuses all and amuses few.
• After a moment of insanity my attempts to trim the back of my hair ends up with me completely shaving the back of my head, but leaving my fringe as normal. (See: Artist Loses His Head But Not His Style)
• After a couple of years of being published, I join the editorial committee of national youth literary magazine Voiceworks.
• My Uncle Nigel dies tragically in Lithgow on the 24th of April. It is my first experience of death.
• Josh Earl and I form a comedy bloopergroup ‘The Renegades of Folk’ specialising in folk covers of electronic songs.
• Record debut studio album In Bed With My Doona with my Uncle Ken Heazlewood in Emu Plains, NSW between July-October. The entire recording, mixing and mastering process takes 140 hours, about 70 of these are spent on ‘Folkstar.’ The album is my life’s work.
• Embark on my first ever tour, taking in Melbourne, Canberra, Albury, Woolongong, Sydney and Perth.
• Become the Victorian State Coordinator of the Australian Songwriter’s Association, somehow.
• Am shortlisted for a Moosehead award. The Melbourne Comedy Festival’s grant for innovative and fresh show ideas. The potential show is called The Bedroom Philosopher’s Super Fun Happy Sleepover Camp of Yay!
• At a time when I am about to produce 500 copies of my album, I win ‘Ploveridol’ a take-off of Australian idol at the This is Not Art Festival in Newcastle. The prize is $1000 of CD reproduction. During the set, I play ‘Megan The Vegan’ and Megan’s ex boyfriend is one of the judges. He is interested. During the song I mention ‘System’s Corrupt,’ an underground posse of which Megan was a member. Many members are in the audience and go wild at being mentioned. I end my set with an unhinged acoustic version of Aphex Twin’s ‘Come To Daddy’ complete with primary school singalong verses erupting into institutionalised primal screaming. For my encore, I stand on a table in the middle of the room and play ‘Everybody’s Got The Same Insecurities As You’ unplugged. On my walk back to to the stage some indie-goth girls start tugging at my pants, so I lie on my back and scream “Tear me apart! I hate myself!’ It’s a personal victory.” (See: Bedroom Philosopher Gig Round-Up)
• After sleeping with a fan, she writes about it on her blog within twelve hours. I find it the next day and am very weirded out. I ask her to take it down, for fear that my Mum might see it. She is not impressed. (See: A Story No Blogger Should Miss)
• First unofficial album single ‘I’m So Post Modern’ is placed on light rotation on Triple J. It is particularly popular on Super Requests.
• My poetic alter-super-ego Super Poet makes his debut at a Melbourne poetry gig.
• Finish the year with a set at the Falls Festival, playing after ‘Butterfingers’ to about 2000 people. A young girl approaches me and offers to have my baby. My response is: ‘What’s your bloodtype?’

2005

• Sitting at home late one night I start writing a song that goes “Hello! My name is Wow Wow. I am here to tell you some stories.” I write the whole song while pissing myself. The voice is a combination of my cave man voice with a dialect inspired by an alternate personality that Caitlin had. To me, Wow Wow is a little caveman trying to understand the world.
• Perform at the Hobart Comedy Festival. This year, I am asked to perform In Bed With My Doona. They even have a racing car bed on stage for me, on loan. During Folkstar I jump on it and break it. Wow Wow proves to be a big hit, getting consistent laughs.
• Perform in Laughapoolooza at the Kaleide theatre – a prototype musical comedy gala that my manager Chris has devised. I come up with the name. It’s one of the early gigs for Tim Minchin, who performs in shorts. He’s inspired by Josh who dresses up all cool. Chris begins courting me with the manager of T.I.S.M. whom I’m very intimidated by.
• Participate in the Big Laugh Comedy Festival, playing five shows with Nick Sun and Sam Bowring.
• Perform third Melbourne Comedy Festival show Pyjamarama. It’s a ramshackle little show, which showcases the ‘unhinged’ Bedroom Philosopher period. It features Alf singing Creep (me hiding behind an Alf doll on my guitar) as well as live hit ‘I’m So Over Girls’ and me rapping ‘Folkstar’ to a backing while destroying the stage. While there is good initial buzz, it doesn’t turn into strong numbers. I once again manage to do my worst show infront of an Age reviewer. A reviewer from Chortle, a UK comedy website, gives me the best review of my life, stating that I am the “Jarvis Cocker of stand-up.” Backstage at Laughapoolooza I meet John Safran, whom I’m a huge fan of. We bond over our mutual dislike of the “new Simpsons.” John describes me as “The most awkward comedian in the festival.”
• Perform in all six ‘Laughapoolooza’s’ during the festival, including one filmed for a DVD release. It is not a pleasant experience for me. I am terribly nervous, and break a string and knock the microphone over during ‘McRock.’ I go overtime and am vilified backstage. It is one of my lowest performance moments. Despite more on stage confidence, I am finding the comedy ‘industry’ increasingly intimidating, and continually fall silent around peers. My ‘networking’ involves me lurking near Rove and scrunching my flyers.
• After the Comedy Festival awards night I perform ‘Anarchy In The UK’ for the Scared Weird Little Guys Superband. At the end, it seems like a good idea to take all my clothes off. The performance appears in the special features of an upcoming Scardies DVD. I write to their manager, the same one Chris has been courting me with, requesting for my ‘special features’ to be pixelated. They aren’t.
• Secure national distribution for ‘In Bed With My Doona’ through MGM.
• ‘I’m So Post Modern’ is in the top five most requested songs on Super Requests, during two days in April, and two days in June. It is still being regularly requested six months after its radio debut.
• ‘I’m So Post Modern’ is featured on Triple J Super Request compilation ‘Dog’s Breakfast,’ alongside the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s, Marilyn Manson and such novelty favourites as King Missile’s ‘Detachable Penis’ and Dana Lyon’s ‘Cow’s With Guns.’
• Go on a date with Paris Wells. She saw Pyjamarama and kept emailing me asking about my Alf doll. We kiss briefly but then she has to go to a party.
• In July, I begin some preliminary writing for a new sketch show being planned for Channel 10 called The Ronnie Johns Half Hour. The show is based on a uni revue stage show created by Chris. This is the first time I’ve ever written a sketch, but I quickly get the hang of it.
• During a gig in Hobart, I meet the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, Anna. We have some nice conversations, but she is in a relationship.
• Am asked to open for long time musical comedy heroes Tripod on a fourteen day regional tour of W.A. This includes Broome, Port Hedland down to Kalgoorlie. It is about the best two weeks of my life. At a party one night I snort what is probably speed for the only time in my life. It doesn’t do a lot for me except make me wet my hotel bed. (See: Tripod Tour Diary Part One & Part Two)
• In October, I temporarily move to Sydney to write for Ronnie Johns. I live in Alexandria with a friend of a friend and his three dogs. I have never lived with dogs before, nor particuarly liked them. This time round, I don’t hate Sydney nearly as much. It’s the first time I’ve been able to live off my creativity. I am paid well and save no money. I find writing for television more demanding than I had imagined, although many of my sketches get through and I am well praised.
• Go out with Erica, a wacky, hell-cute performer. It doesn’t last long. At dinner she tells me I could be a lot further along in my career, that I wear glasses to hold onto a high school idea of myself and that we should break up. She still owes me $150.
• Try my hand as the warm up guy at the Ronnie Johns live nights. This involves walking out in a cold, sterile television studio and geeing up a crowd of young, middle class trendabogans. On top of being funny, I must also wear an ear piece and constantly be aware of what the director is saying. I am challenged. During one stint of handing out merchandise to the crowd I hit a lady in the face with an Australian Idol notebook. The director decides “that is enough.”
• Perform at the Falls Festival for the third year in a row. This year I am up against Sarah Blasko. A good crowd turns out to witness me. At one point I stop, listen to Sarah on the big stage for a while and scream ‘Damn it Sarah – you know I love you, but there’s no need to rub it in!’ For the third year in a row I spend my Fall Festival time wandering around in a depressive stupor. (See: New Year’s Grieve)

2006

• ‘I’m So Post Modern’ is voted #72 in Triple J’s Hottest 100. With no money and no ideas I enlist the help of Ronnie Johns performer Dan Ilic and make a film clip for it. It’s a lo-fi animated karaoke affair, it’s climax made up of a montage of photos sent to me by LapTopping subscribers. The song is chosen to appear on the Hottest 100 DVD.
• Finish work on a new remix of ‘Folkstar’ entitled Folkstar (Pooglet 78″ Mix). It includes altered lyrics and dramatically reperformed vocals, delivered in more of a Beastie Boys hip-hop style. The new remix is added to the latest batch of ‘In Bed With My Doona’ albums.
• Am asked to be the guest speaker at University of Canberra’s commencement ceremony. My advice includes consider lectures like gigs you’ve already bought tickets for, as when you work it out each one costs about $50.
• Go on JJJ’s ‘Like A Version’ segment. I perform one original, which is a version of ‘I’m So Post Modern’ with twenty-six new lines, and a chorus. For my cover, I take Matt’s advice and write an acoustic megamix of thirty songs from the Hottest 100. It proves hugely popular on radio for a while and at gigs. I consider releasing it, but the copyright implications are humorous.
• My love life is a tangle of flings. I am seeing girls in Sydney and Melbourne without telling either. A friend later says the word on the street is I “pretend to be lonely and awkward to get booty.” (see: Beware The Indie Sleaze)
• Life in Sydney starts to feel quite lonely. On one Sunday afternoon when I can’t find anyone to hang out with I sit on my front porch and write ‘Circus Bear.’
• Wind up Sydney operations in March and return to Melbourne. Ronnie Johns has rated fairly well during the year and a second season appears likely. The Chopper character is particularly popular.
• The Renegades of Folk perform their debut show in the Melbourne Comedy Festival. Audiences love it but all our friends and peers seem to hate it. We also find it mysteriously impossible to get reviewed.
• First meet future band mate and close friend Andy Hazel, who bounds up to me after a show.
• After some serious match making from Sam Simmons, I fall deeply in love with Anna, the girl I’d met the year previous. We go out, both figuring we were out of each other’s league.
• During an outdoor performance in the Comedy Festival, I am disturbed by the presence of a man in a purple Comedy Channel Star suit. I make up a song with the chorus: “let’s all push over the Comedy Channel star.” Suddenly two young punks run from nowhere and crash tackle him to the ground. (See: Bedroom Philosopher or Bedroom Terrorist?)
• Finish work on yet another upgrade of ‘Folkstar.’ this time, adding the genius double bass exploits of John Maddox. This version ‘Folkstar (Pooglet With Strings Mix)’ is deemed the official second single from In Bed With My Doona and is sent out backed with a remix by Pomomofo. A limited edition maxi-single is produced, featuring other remixes of ‘Folkstar’ and ‘I’m So Post Modern,’ plus some live recordings from a drunken session in Albury for a forthcoming national tour.
• Organise my own first proper national tour, playing Melbourne, Hobart, Canberra, Sydney, Newcastle and Brisbane. I play music venues, with mainly straight musical supports. While an enormous job to orchestrate, it is an unprecedented joy to perform, with especially healthy turnouts in my home bases of Melbourne, Canberra and Hobart. (See: Nationalish Tour Diary)
• Change management. As Chris’ commitments with Ronnie Johns grow, I decide it’s best to change management. I begin working with a friend Saskia, after a 2am discussion over a chicken schnitzel sandwich at famed Melbourne establishment ‘Golden Towers.’
• ‘Folkstar’, while never gaining the popularity of ‘I’m So Post Modern’ gets a fair work out on Triple J, mainly on Super Requests.
• Ronnie Johns is commissioned for a second series. In conjunction with this, I am offered the lead role in Nick Coyle’s The October Sapphire to be performed at the New York Fringe Festival. As I can’t afford the trip to NY, I decline. To my joy, and benefit of my relationship, Ronnie Johns allows me to write from Melbourne.
• In September I begin work on a new album Brown & Orange. I again work with my Uncle Ken in Emu Plains. This album aspires to be a more ambitious affair, and Magical Mystery Tour comments are appropriately bandied about.
• Support comedy icon Flacco for three shows in Melbourne.
• Perform a two week season in the Melbourne Fringe Festival with the show Living on the edge…of my bed. It’s a combination of new and old material, which is moderately successful. I am peturbed after industry bookers state they enjoyed my show but wouldn’t book it as it was a “gig show” not a “show show.” I also experience anxiety about whether recent songs like ‘The Happiest Boy’ are funny enough for a comedy audience.
• Saskia puts me in touch with musician and producer Martin “Moose” Lubran, who agrees to act as producer, engineer and collaborator. Marty has a strong music and comedy background, having written music for Working Dog projects. In November, I wind up work with Ken and begin the more sonically intensive side with Marty. This includes the use of session musician, playing drums, violin, trumpet, piano, slide, banjo and sitar.
• Forget I’m making a comedy album.
• After being days away from the Melbourne Comedy Festival deadline, I have a sudden realisation that I don’t want to perform in comedy rooms anymore, but would rather focus on music venues.
• Andy Hazel continues to text me wanting to jam. I’m not confident about playing with other musicians and have been acting distant. I finally agree and realise that “jam” doesn’t have to mean improvising on blues riffs, but simply Andy playing bass on my songs. We talk about the concept of a band.
• On Christmas Eve, back home, I drunkenly ‘don’t fend off straight away’ an old friend who makes a move. Anna makes the trip over on boxing day and choose to tell her about it.
• My Pop falls ill, making it a very stressful Christmas period.
• One of my childhood cats Misty must be put down due to liver failure. Anna is by my side, making the whole trip utterly mournful, but we make it through together.
• Perform for the fourth year at The Falls Festival. This year I am given a proper 20 minute comedy bracket, and play alongside Charlie Pickering at Hobart and Lorne. I inadvertantly start a verbal war between Tim Rogers and Charlie Pickering when a brief impression of Tim Rogers is mis-reported as being Charlie’s work. Tim proceeds to offer an on-stage warning to Charlie, who then spends most of his Lorne set bagging Tim out.
• Anna and I end the year drinking warm champagne and watching Wolfmother. Take stock of life and realise, for the first time, I am in a particularly joyous and cherished position.

2007

• Continue work on ‘Brown & Orange.’ The album doesn’t have a specific timeline, and so I’m given a lot of space to explore my artistic whims. This is a very pleasant process, and I’m often at my happiest when I’m in the studio.
• Perform three shows in the Adelaide Fringe Festival in February. They are my first since putting myself in the music category. I am still quite nervous about what the reaction will be. I find the banter the hardest to guage. The shows go well, and the new songs such as ‘Party In My Head’ seem to work.
• Centrelink pins me with its worst requirement yet. Three weeks of daily intensive job search training at Preston. I find it enormously demoralising.
• After five years I stop writing my column Struth Be Told for Canberra streetpress BMA. I am so frustrated financially that I demand nicely to start getting paid, and proceed to shop my column around nationally.
• Decide that I need to gather a backing band to recreate the new material on stage. After a callout I select new friend and fellow Tasmanian Andy “Nature Boy” Hazel on bass and first year VCA student Hugh “Mad Dog” Rabinovici on percussion. We begin a rigorous weekly rehearsal schedule. I find the two boys an absolute pleasure to work with, which is a relief, as I am still quite insecure about my ability to musically ‘mix well with the other children.’
• Play our first gig at the Espy in St Kilda. It actually goes quite well. A medium but appreciative audience seem to like us. Unlike the support band. One of them swears at me for touching water that was in his rider. It seems to say “welcome to music.”
• My Pop passes away in May. It is completely heartbreaking to see him in his final moments, paralysed. (See: Wearing Pop’s Clothes)
• Anna and I celebrate one year together. We are like two peas in a sensitive, witty, loving pod.
• Play a solo residency at Wesley Anne. I am still struggling to find my feet in a musical environment. I have no trouble playing the songs, but tend to overanalyse how much humour I should be expressing.
• Turn 27. It feels like a big age.
• Hit the first of several ‘Saturn Returns’ mental walls. The internal arguments about what The Bedroom Philosopher should be unsettles other parts of my personality. I find myself for the first time sweeping an angry comb through all elements of my life such as my friends. My Facebook inventory plummets.
• Perform solo gig at the Stagedoor Cafe in Burnie. It is my first gig in Burnie since I played ‘Pooljam’ at the Burnie Olympic Pool in 1998. My Nan, Mum and Uncle Ken are present, along with some joyously rowdy old high school mates, creating a special atmosphere.
• Perform second gig with the band at The Tote. This is highly attended by all my friends, and big acts like The Basics share the stage. I hate my performance and feel under prepared.
• After hassling the editor for a while, I have my first column published in national magazine Frankie. I have been admiring their work for a while and it feels like an important victory for my writing.
• Play with the band at The Annandale in Sydney. It’s a huge crowd but we are mixed like a rock band, and no-one can really hear the words. I am genuinely bamboozled about whether I’m doing the right thing. Some fans down the front request ‘Megan The Vegan’ but I refuse, and later wonder if I’ve lost the plot. A friend suggests I could play electric guitar in some songs. Based on this survey I rush out and buy one as soon as I get back to Melbourne.
• While in Sydney I share a joint with good friend Leigh Rigozzi. We listen to Ween and I can’t remember laughing so hard. It’s my best ever drug experience.
• Quit smoking. This is the biggest attempt in a few years. I vow to the heavens and all before me that no longer will my health and singing voice fall pray to this vile, pathetic, pointless vice.
• Start smoking again. (See: Fun Size Suicide)
• Play a residency with the band at The Empress. I am still far from comfortable on stage, and am struggling to make sense of the electric. I continue to be berated for not playing ‘Megan The Vegan.’ There are many who dig the band and new material as well.
• ’The Happiest Boy,’ the first single from Brown & Orange is released in October. This seems fitting as it’s a song I’d reluctantly scratch from my comedy sets for not being funny enough. The film clip for it is astoundingly good. My friend David Blumenstein AKA Nakedfella has worked on it on and off for nine months. It is well received, although the song receives a scathing review in Brisbane street press for not being as funny as ‘I’m So Post Modern.’
• Frankie regularly publish my columns. I also get my first piece in Triple J’s magazine JMag.
• Support 80′s iconic children’s performer Peter Combe on a ten show renaissance tour in music venues. The crowds are huge and amazingly enthusiastic. I find these gigs a breeze to play and build my set around my many songs featuring nostalgia and pop culture references. (See: Peter Combe Tour Diary)
• Continue to have enormous internal battles about my new direction, and countless email conversations with my manager. I feel like a leaf in the ocean, constantly swayed by the different opinions about what I should do. (See: Infrequently Asked Questions)
• My oldest childhood cat, Blossum, passes away at the grand age of twenty.
• After some negotiations I resume writing Struth Be Told for BMA.
• The process of recording Brown & Orange deteriorates. A lot of time is devoted to attempting to record songs that aren’t working out. In a panic about time, I decide to drop them. Mixing begins on the demanding second single, ‘Wow Wow’s Song’ which features over forty tracks.
• Embark on national tour for ‘The Happiest Boy.’ Overall it is an unpleasant experience. Numbers are well down on the ‘I’m So Post Modern tour’, and I rarely enjoy myself on stage. I develop a pet-hate of Dance Floor Gap –  the sensation of playing to a black void because everyone is lurking up the back. Radio has barely touched the single, mainly due to its length of 4:36. I can’t help but compare it to the tour of the previous year when I had less worries and more punters. (See: The Happiest Boy Tour Report)
• Frustrated about money, I take on a bar job. It’s my first proper job in two years.
• After submitting short comedy pieces to The Big Issue, they start publishing me in their Ointment section.
• The second single ‘Wow Wow’s Song (La La La)’ is taken to Hothouse studio to give it the polish it needs. I am not allowed into the final mixes and can only monitor its development by emails. I find this process incredibly stressful and feel as though I’ve lost control of my album.
• Begin counselling for the first time in years, after having a genuine sense of losing my way and having too many pressures in my life. I want to protect myself and my relationship.
• Anna breaks her ankle while running for a tram in vintage shoes.
• Support Tripod on their Christmas Show tour of Perth, Adelaide and Melbourne. I am elated yet bemused to find myself so confident and successful in front of a comedy crowd. I acknowledge my addiction to laughter and natural abilities as a comedian. It’s a joy hang out with Tripod again and they lend valuable ears to my thoughts on music and comedy.
• Return home to Tasmania for a holiday only to find my Nan violently ill with gastro.
• Anna comes over and we have a lovely New Year’s Eve in my home town of Burnie. It’s the first time in years I haven’t been playing at Falls Festival and I’m relieved. The sight of a pretty girl in a 50′s dress on crutches and a boy with mid-length hair, retro shirt and glasses are too much for Burnie. We are stared into submission and hide out in a beer garden watching the fireworks. In an up and down year riddled with frustration and personal bitterness, I look forward to the metaphorical slate being wiped clean, and vow to focus on the positives in my life.

2008

• After Centrelink cuts off my payment, a Hobart trip with Anna turns sour.
• Work on Brown & Orange ceases. I grow heavily anxious about its completion. A radio-edit for ‘Wow Wow’s Song’ is knocked up, and the single is set to be released in February.
• Add Michael “Flute Magee” O’Connor to the band. He is an amazing flute player I once saw at a friend’s gig. I dub the new trio The Awkwardstra.
• Play Melbourne Big Day Out for the second year in a row. We’re tucked off in a weird side tent but people react well to the new songs.
• The business partner of the man who created the Golden Gayime emails me to say he heard the song on Triple J and would like a copy. He tells me the story of how the ice cream was created – the biscuit factory next door kept throwing out bags of broken biscuits, so a method was created to blow them onto ice cream. Genius.
• Perform with The Awkwardstra at the Perth International Arts Festival. They fly us there, put us up and give us lavish backstage platters. It’s the best I’ve ever been treated for a gig. We go appropriately hard on the last night, winding up in the hotel pool and drinking red wine in the sauna. (See: Festival Tour Diary)
• Frankie credit me as a senior writer.
• My long-time hobby of collecting vintage 70′s ties goes into hyper-drive. I discover E-Bay and spend many an idle moment bidding on ties. My collection balloons to one hundred and fifty and is featured in the Frankie collectors page.
• Decide that next single ‘Wow Wow’s Song’ must have a film clip and embark on an epic journey to get it made. I employ a small crew of people to help realise my extravagant concept. We shoot it in February in a green screen studio. While work on the album has reached a tense stalemate, it feels good to move ahead on something.
• My share house gets an N64 with Mario Kart. It takes me back to my first year uni days and I spend an awful lot of time playing it. Between that and E-Bay my ability to focus depletes. (See: Welcome To Mario Kart)
• Develop permanent tinittus after seeing Ween peform a marathon three hour set at the Forum. It’s most disappointing as my Mum has warned me about loud rock bands most of my life. (See: Fucking tinittus)
• Perform a string of poorly attended gigs in Melbourne. It’s a sore come-down after the heights of Perth, and with the second single delayed I am confounded about how to maintain momentum.
• Start working casually for the first time in years, pulling beers at Trades Hall, a bar frequented by comedians. It feels like a fall from grace to be on the other side.
• Perform solo at Melbourne Comedy Festival, supporting Tripod at the Forum. Also perform in several other comedy variety nights, but find the crowd reactions disappointing. I wonder if I’ll ever be happy where I am.
• After a lot of planning, I play a set of my serious songs under the name Windsor Flare. It feels important to finally give these songs, some I’ve been carrying around for ten years, their own space.
• My mood reaches an all-time low on the most inappropriate of days, my second year anniversary. The next day I ask a G.P. to prescribe me anti-depressants. (See: Ranty-Depressants)
• Mysteriously I am given no more shifts at my one-day-a-week bar job. I begin working at a boutique vintage store in Fitzroy. While I think just standing around looking cool will be enough, it isn’t. I am not cut out for retail and am let go. Being fired from two one day a week jobs doesn’t aid my confidence. Continue my Centrelink hoop jumping.
• Realise that Brown & Orange cannot continue in the current atmosphere and take the incomplete tracks to new producer Chris Scallan at Soft Centre Studios in Northcote. Mixing begins almost immediately with intent to finish it within a month. It is an incredible relief. The drama that has unfolded has taken a serious toll on my career. Andy is a tremendous support through all of this.
• Work on Wow Wow’s Clip stalls for several months. The guy working on the rendering runs out of time. I feel doomed.
• Turn 28. In an attempt to celebrate my wonderful friends I make them all a Mix CD.
• Part ways with my manager. Decide to make a clean start with the album and clip. This is difficult as I owe a lot of money. Close friends bail me out with loans.
• Begin working with percussionist Jamie “Hitz Rodriguez” Power, who is introduced by Andy and Sitar and electric guitarist Gordon “Gordo” Blake who I meet at a bar. They are valuable additions to ‘The Awkwardstra’ and I get a real sense of us gelling.
• Anna and I have the first of several break-ups. We are in love and at a loss. I am bewildered by the notion that love isn’t enough to keep two people together.
• Decide to go off the anti-depressants. I am disturbed at the fact I can’t cry during my own break-up.
• Move house. After four years in the same place I opt to live with an ex-Voiceworks friend and two others. It’s Change O’clock.
• Ban myself from E-Bay, and put a serious limit on my boutique tie shopping after I buy forty in one go. My collection pushes three hundred and brings me joy and ridicule.
• Do everything in my power to shop around the album. I approach every label and management I can think of over several months. No-one appears terribly interested.
• Begin appearing regularly on my friend’s RRR show Aural Text. Community radio is huge in Melbourne and I am keen to be involved.
• Finally release ‘Wow Wow’s Song (La La La)’ to radio and book a single launch tour.
• Almost pick up the support spot for the Adam Green tour. His management contacts me from New York, to my amazement, but the promoter eventually goes with someone else.
• With the help of Melbourne comedy booker Janet McLeod, I score an $8000 grant from the Melbourne City Council for my Melbourne Comedy Festival Show pitch Songs From The 86 Tram. It is my first grant success and a super-nova of gold amidst the shit-storm.
• After a long struggle to finish the clip I locate the brilliant Leigh Ryan who works productively on the animation sequences. We spend many hours working on it, but it soon becomes evident that everything will come together.
• Embark on ‘Wow Wow’s Song’ tour, spread out over a couple of months. Crowd numbers are relatively down, although I have a somewhat better time than the previous sojourn. During a side-comedy gig in Sydney I randomly meet the head of Australian YouTube. (See: ‘Wow Wow’s Song’ Single Launch Tour Diary)
• While in Adelaide I tee up an interview with the inventor of the Golden Gaytime, John Milton. I go to his house and sit by his poolside deck while he chain smokes and drinks Pepsi Max. He is an eloquent larrikin who speaks matter of factly about ice-cream production in the late 60′s. He says the Golden Gaytime wasn’t a big deal at the time. “It was just another ice-cream on another stick.”
• Anna and I can’t leave each other alone, taking an enormous toll on us both. I am a part-time mind changer acting on corruptable impulse.
• After growing unrest with the lack of sound proofing of my tiny room, I decide to move house again. Fortunately, I find a place straight away, coincidentally the same share house that Tammy lived in for two years. By this stage I am able to do nothing but laugh at how dramatic the year is turning out.
• Have some powerful music epiphanies: The Kinks Village Green Preservation Society, J.J. Cale Troubadour and Boards Of Canada. The latter’s album The Campfire Headphase is the most welcoming frequency I can find. This coincides with the third somehow disappointing release from Beck in a row, placing our relationship at a low.
• After nine months the ‘Wow Wow’s Song’ video is finally completed. I upload it to YouTube and let the head guy know about it. Overnight he makes it the featured Australian video. Over a week it scores 20, 000 views. As radio have failed to pick it up, this is priceless exposure. I am bemused by the general public’s reaction to the song. What was mainly meant to be funny is described either as “frightening”, “not my favourite song” and “my four year old loves you.”
• After a successful single launch, I pitch the idea of a December residency to my favourite Melbourne venue, The Northcote Social Club. They go for it. The residency is a hit, with happy crowds and solid sets. It’s a magnificent way to finish the year.
• Am asked to fill in for my friend’s RRR show during summer. I am encouraged to create my own comedy program, banding together a crew of co-horts in cahoots Damien Lawlor, Josh Earl, Matt Kelly and Eva Johansen.
• Decide I’ll be too busy to go home for Christmas and plan to have my first orphans Christmas in Melbourne with friends. It feels like a fitting right of passage.
• Nan experiences heart failure and is flown to Royal Hobart Hospital to have a pace-maker put in. I hope it is not related to my Christmas decision. She makes a full recovery.
• Anna and I make our break-up final. I am incredulous and deeply upset.
• MGM offer to release Brown & Orange in February. This time they offer to press up copies of the record – my first deal.
• Have my last counselling session in late December. Vow to absorb all that has happened and learn something from it. Have never looked forward to a new year so much, and feel like I’ve totalled this one.
• Need holiday.
• Don’t have one.
• Pick up guitar.

2009

• Am given an opportunity to do a summer-fill show on Melbourne community radio Triple R. I conceive a show called Lime Champions, a combination of sketches and music. During the first ten minutes the station manager sticks his head in the studio and is impressed that we’re performing the sketches live. He says we are the most organised summer fill he’s seen.
• Begin a new relationship, which feels fresh and healing. The universe appears to have answered my calls to make things a bit more positive around here.
• Spend the sordidly hot Melbourne summer by steadily writing the show. It’s the first time I’ve sat down at my desk for five hours a day, guitar in hand, trying to write new material. It feels good.
• Brown & Orange is released through MGM.
• Perform a gig at the Thin Green Line Festival. The five-piece Awkwardstra are gelling well. After the set, heaps of people come up to buy the new album, which is inspiring.
• Purchase a new bed for the first time. Mum helps out with the money dished out by the Prime Minister. It’s a big fluffy dream.
• Lime Champions are given their own regular spot, Monday nights at 7pm. The previously two hour show is streamlined into an hour with the intention of filling up most of that time with our own material. I make a difficult decision and ask Matt to leave the team, putting a huge dent in our friendship.
• Due to my grant money, I am able to work with a high-end publicist for the first time. She secures me a full page feature in the The Age.
• Launch Brown & Orange at the Corner Hotel with Tripod and The Suitcase Royale. I bust my gut setting up the stage to look like a 70′s lounge room. The show is long and a little scattered, but a triumph nonetheless.
• Perform Songs From The 86 Tram at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. It’s a resounding success, gathering critical acclaim and full houses.
• Mum visits me in Melbourne for the first time. She’s in good spirits and away from the history of home we have some of our most quality time.
• On the eve of the sixteenth show I am riding home with a backpack full of groceries, with no lights, when I slam my bike into a car door, on the 86 tram line, breaking my humerus. The people in the car are off duty policeman and very helpful. I am forced to cancel the rest of the season. It is devastating but also relieving, I have been pushing myself like crazy for the past two months. The news creates a groundswell of support for myself and the show, as well as a tastily ironic press release.
• Awarded the Director’s Choice award for outstanding show.
• My summer relationship ends, leaving me once again alone and bewildered by love.
• Begin the glum life of a share house cripple. I get by as much as I can, writing and editing sketches with one hand. The downtime allows me to eat a lot of drumsticks and watch a lot of Gossip Girl, my new secret shame. I also revisit my favourite childhood show The Mysterious Cities Of Gold which has dated rather well.
• Become acquainted with one of my comedy heroes Tony Martin, after he writes to tell me how much he liked 86 Tram. I begin contributing to his online publication Scrivener’s Fancy.
• To my delight Brown & Orange receives mostly positive reviews. I am especially pleased with the musical comparisons. I can’t help but get the impression Wow Wow doesn’t have a lot of friends.
• Participate in Melbourne Comedy Festival roadshow. I almost cancel due to my arm, but decide to stick it out and enlist friend Oliver Clark to play guitar on certain songs. It’s a difficult transition, not knowing what to do with my hands and battling country crowds, but I hold my own. After developing mild food poisoning my mood degenerates and I find the tour gruelling. (See: Roadshow Tour Diary)
• Move house for the third time in twelve months. Living with five others has not proven to be the most peaceful experience. Decide to live with a friend and one other housemate in Westgarth, with intent to chill the hell out and recalibrate my artistic mainframe.
• My room is directly next to a train passenger crossing with a piercing alarm that goes off every ten minutes from six in the morning until twelve at night.
• Continue physio for my arm. It heals well but is quite sore a lot of the time.
• My moods and sleep cycles are still swinging all about the place. I maintain counselling which I find to be excellent.
• Become more and more health conscious. I find I am eating more vegetarian food and leaning away from alcohol. What used to be laughed off as hangovers now leaves me depressed (See: Alcohol Is Pure Sex). I also discover yoga and start enjoying lattes.
• Become Melbourne cliché.
• Lime Champions goes from strength to strength. We have a medium following and Tony Martin makes a splash by coming on our subscriber week show and dropping Gary Sizzle.
• Short story about my experience performing in the University play Skin is published in Your Mother Would Be Proud, a collection of horror stories from the entertainment industry.
• Land the role of John Safran’s re-enactment in his new series Race Relations. I get to draw on my old acting days. John claims I got the role because in my audition I said I knew a Jewish prayer from a sample in a Beck song. For two weeks I live the dream of being a full-time actor. It’s glorious. I have to dye my hair blonde, and decide I could also play Andy Warhol in a telemovie.
• Roll out the Brown & Orange National Tour with The Awkwardstra and Josh Earl coming along for the ride. It’s a lot of work but awfully swell. The sets with the band are among my best ever and I relish the onstage aural and spiritual support.
• Finish up tour playing solo in Adelaide and Perth. Get the biggest crowds of the tour and a sense of being back on track, and of putting the difficult second album behind me.
• Write an article on my meeting with the Golden Gaytime inventor. I pitch it to Frankie, who are happy to publish it until the editor contacts Streets for a photo. They deny all knowledge of John Milton. I then check on Wikipedia to see someone else is credited for inventing the ice-cream. I am baffled. I try to get back in touch with John but can’t. I’m not sure if it’s a case of big business stealing an idea off the little guy, or if I’ve been swindled by a rogue charmer who claims to have invented everything from Vegemite to Iced Vovos. I intend to investigate the story further. (See: Storytime)
• Begin work on the Songs From The 86 Tram album with Chris Scallan, who finished off ‘Brown & Orange.’ This album will be a tighter, sharper affair with click tracks and pre-production and a fully rehearsed band ready to roll.
• My flatmate tells me he’s started seeing Anna.
• Play my first gigs in Alice Springs and Darwin. Perform my worst gig of all time at a restaurant bar in Darwin. The crowd aren’t into it and twenty minutes in I am gonged off stage by the owner, wielding a dinner gong. Later, the venue owner will tell Darwin’s NT News that I’m a racist. (See: Careful, folks, he will hear you on stage)
• Am best man for Josh Earl’s wedding. My speech goes down a treat, though I’m reminded what a lame state my love life is in. (see: Love)
• Perform a reprise of Songs From The 86 Tram at Melbourne Fringe Festival. For a completely independent venture with little publicity I make seven and a half thousand dollars – enough money to fund my album.
• At the after party I meet Sabrina, a plucky, pun-popping dreamster whom I fall in love with. It feels like good timing and life becomes a lot more fun.
• Finish up the 86 Tram album. What began as a side project to have something to sell at Fringe has turned into my best work to date by far. It’s sent to New York to be mastered by Greg Calbi of Sterling Studios who has worked with everyone from David Bowie to MGMT.
• Perform for two weeks at Sydney’s Comedy Store. I see it as a challenge to my comedy chops, which I haven’t flexed in a while. It’s a tricky learning curve, but towards the end I’m riffing on subjects sans guitar and making up whole rants on the spot. It reignites my passion and confidence for stand-up, though one night I nearly get my head kicked off by a punter. (see: The Bedroom Philosopher @ The Sydney Comedy Store)
• John Safran’s Race Relations goes to air. People seem happy with my work. My Nan tunes in for the first time to see me blowing my brains out in a fantasy sequence.
• Begin to sense that I’m doing too much. On one day in November I go straight from working on the album to doing Lime Champions, then performing a gig at night. I find it increasingly difficult to keep my comedic ball in the air.
• My living situation deteriorates. There is a train crossing alarm which makes me anxious every eight minutes, a new hippy dominatrix flatmate practicing loud vocal calisthenics each morning and of course my flatmate, still going out with Anna. It’s official – I know how to pick sharehouses.
• Perform a Tuesday residency at the Toff In Town, mirroring the Northcote Social Club residency of the previous year. This time round isn’t as cruisy, with lesser crowds and a more temperamental performance from me. I am genuinely burnt out by this stage, after self managing for so long, I’ve surpassed the limits of what I can do in a year. The final show is  the best, with Harry Angus performing to a crowd of 200.
• After an utterly magical, whirlwind month, Sabrina goes to New York to do shows for three months. I’m keen to go with her but can’t afford it. We decide to stay together and I swim with grandiose feelings.
• Dash off to Burnie to spend the quietest Christmas and New Year’s in history – playing Yahtzee with friends. I’m deliriously proud of the year and feeling quietly content. (For me.)

2010

• After staying home for a bit too long, I become oversensitive and defensive. Continuing my love/hate relationship with Facebook, and recent feelings of overexposure, I cull my Facebook friends from 480 to 80. (See: Family Ain’t A Holiday, Straight version & Funny version)
• The ‘Tram Inspector’ single gets good reviews but not much airplay. It is single of the week in Inpress.
• Move house – my fifth share house in two years. I live with friends, a great couple from the band Go-Go Sapien and their incontinent cat White Man.
• After burning out late last year, I decide to make wholesale changes. I announce that I won’t be doing Lime Champions any longer, nor my columns for The Big Issue or BMA. At the same time I get in touch with a  music acquaintance, Anthea, and after a few back and forths she begins managing me.
• Win Best Cabaret Production for Songs From The 86 Tram at the Melbourne Green Room awards. I miss the awards ceremony due to a bout of bronchitis and a 39 degree temperature.
• Yarra Trams sponsor my reprise of Songs From The 86 Tram in the Melbourne Comedy Festival. They provide $24, 000 worth of posters on trams.
• Triple J start playing ‘Northcote (So Hungover)’. During April it is the most requested song on Super Requests five times.
• Am approached for the first time by a label. Shock Records don’t front any cash, but distribute the album on April 16.
• Songs From The 86 Tram is a blinding success. I sell all but 30 tickets in my venue and put on two extra shows in a 200 seater. Crowd vibe is excellent. One night, after getting into a taxi after the show someone yells out “hypocrite.”
• My house situation hits an awkward mark after White Man manages to do a wee on my Mum. He attacked during the night while she was sleeping on a mattress on the floor. After a series of bad share house experiences, I am developing a resentment for Other People’s Cats.
• Northcote reaches #12 in the independent singles chart and is on high rotation on JJJ. For the first time in my life I have the sense of true career success and things actually working out.
• It’s terrifying. I march straight to my counsellor. He says “you speak of this success as if you’re embarrassed.” He suggests my life is racing ahead and I am experiencing speed wobbles.
• Frankie offer me a free full page ad. I book myself a single tour in four hours. A week after Comedy Festival I set off with Josh Earl in tow. It’s a fair success. I sell out the Vanguard in Sydney but don’t enjoy the show. Josh spends much of the trip tweeting about the fact I eat tuna on public transport and fly into rages at the airport. Sabrina suprises me in Hobart my catching a flight for just one night. It’s an incredibly romantic gesture, slightly dampened when she locks me out of my hostel room at 6am, when leaving for the airport.
• Clear about $20k from the Comedy Festival run. I am horrified at how quickly this is dispersed, between paying for my album and pending film clip. I soon get the impression that the bigger you are, the more is costs to keep yourself there.
• Melbourne public transport body Metlink approach me to make a viral video as my Northcote character. I write a parody of Northcote called ‘Hurstbridge (So Sober).’ I film it two days before the real Northcote clip.
• Work with Craig Melville on the ‘Northcote (So Hungover)’ video. It’s an ambitious project with eight different locations. We work from 7am until midnight for two full days. Sadly, Hitz Rodriguez and Mad Dog Rabinovici are absent, but Josh Earl steps in on bass. I’m amazed to get Tim Rogers and Kram to be special guests, just by asking them. It’s the most professional production I’ve ever undertaken, with a full staff donating their time. The results are sublime.
• Turn 30. I hold a One Colour party, where everyone has to dress all in one colour. The night features me giving out my second group mix CD, games of Twister and a sozzled speech by myself at 12pm. John Safran makes an appearance and tells me the news about Andy Muirhead, which I can’t believe he’s not making up.
• The Metlink parody video is released before the Northcote video, which baffles many. Northcote is finally released and starts to go viral.
• Break up with Sabrina after hitting several emotional clots and roadblocks. Then spend a week performing in Hobart Comedy Festival. It’s a dark time.
• Decide against Edinburgh Fringe, the holy grail which comics have been convincing me to do for years. Decide to build on the momentum of Northcote and do an album tour. We work with a booking agent for the first time. He books a mammoth 21 date tour taking in many regional towns, in the hope of scoring a ‘Triple J Presents.’
• We don’t.
• One of my fave bands, The Boat People, are special guests on many of the dates.
• Spend August and September on the national tour. It’s ginormous, a lot of hard work and a fair bit of fun. We sell out Hobart, Brisbane and Melbourne but there are a lot of duds in between. I cut out sugar, smoking and drinking and enjoy the power of natural energy on stage. Band morale is good, but Hitz Rodriguez has a hard time. He is due to be married and moving to Byron in a month and the tour is poor timing. Despite selling out our hometown gig, the Saturday night Northcote Social Club show is incredibly rowdy, and I learn to detest the music venue system of playing at 11pm to drunk, distracted audiences.
• Finding myself oh so alone, Sabrina takes me back. I vow to personal gods not to fuck it up again.
• ‘Northcote (So Hungover)’ becomes a bona fide hit, scoring 150, 000 views on YouTube and high rotation on Channel V. It’s nice to be known for something other than I’m So Post Modern. Suddenly everyone wants to know if I’m a hipster.
• As part of a new initiative called Melbourne Music, I am booked to perform on the 86 tram. They also put me on the cover of Beat, dressed as a tram inspector. A make two attempts to get through the entire album, not quite making it both times. The second time I have a surreal encounter with the guy from the Trishine song, Buddy. (See: STORYTIME: ‘Buddy & Me’)
• After five previous attempts, score a Melbourne Council Vic Rocks grant to makeover website and produce another music video. I’m truly on a roll. This news is balanced with financial concerns about the National Tour. It looks like we’ve lost about $10k on it. Despite having heavy airplay and a band like The Boat People, we just didn’t get the number we needed across the board. It’s a hard pill to swallow.
• ABC’s Collectors interview me about my 70′s tie collection.
• Perform some comedy dates in Adelaide. I’m starting to think about next year’s Comedy Festival show and want to feature more of my stand-up. The gigs are a challenge but give me some heart. After one show two girls ask matter of factly if I want to have a threesome. I decline.
• Quit smoking, more or less, once and for all. (Pretty much).
• Realise I have become something of a workaholic. Now that I have an iphone I seem to check my email twenty times a day. Decide I really need a holiday.
• Leave Australia for the first time, spending three weeks in New York with Sabrina who has ‘puppeteer work.’ It’s pretty good. I see Jonathon Richman, Ariel Pink, and DJ Shadow – all having coffee in Brooklyn. (See: NY, NY)
• Upon returning, I farewell Awkwardstra member Hitz Rodriguez, who is moving onto wedded bliss in Byron Bay. I lose a friend, band mate and yoga teacher.
• The Northcote video wins a heap of awards, including The Australian Director’s Guild and The Australian Cinematographers Society.
• Shock Records announce that they’ve gone broke. They have subsequently lost all royalties for 86 Tram and the Northcote single, of  which 3000 units were sold. I decide the music industry is shit.
• Rehearse for the annual December residency at the Northcote Social Club. The theme this year is ‘End Of Financial Year in December’ – a cryptic reversal of Christmas in July where we dress as summer accountants with post-it note lay’s and cocktail fruits on receipt spikes. It’s a brilliant run. Some new band songs start to sizzle including ‘Leaving My Hairdresser’ and ‘Handshake Hug’.
• Support Dan Kelly at Federation Square.
• Collectors ask me to write and present a segment about modern day op shops.
• Am on a tram when John Safran sends me a text saying “check out the Goth girl across from you.” I do, but am puzzled when I can’t find John on the tram anywhere. The girl sitting next to the goth girl is a friend of John’s who’d texted him to say she’d spied me on the tram.
• Spend Christmas with Sabrina’s family in Sydney in at attempt to get to know them better. We’ve had a hell rocky, on again off again year, mainly thanks to me – but thankfully love has the last laugh.
• Head to Woodford Folk Festival for the first time, in a whirlwind run of summer festivals including both legs of Falls and Southbound in Perth. Woodford rains for three days straight, making camping a trial. The shows themselves are positive. It’s a ridiculous schedule, in which I must get up at 4am to make a 7am flight for a 2pm performance at Lorne. (see: God I Hate Festivals Pt 1)
• Enjoy a brilliant set at Marion Bay Falls in which the whole crowd sing along with “Riding around on the 86″. Each day I’m coming to terms with what a blinding success this year has been. I have to keep reminding myself to enjoy it. On New Years Eve I am completely exhausted and asleep by 12:15am. A fitting end to a big year. Thanks for reading. You can go to the toilet now.