anton

From Friday on I'm out of town for a while, up north with family, and then drinking with the hobbits of New Zealand. When I get back it'll be a rowdy Christmas with Max, Matt and Alex (who's back from an epic trip through the United States in mid-December), basketball with Birdy, Stuie and Peeps (if they end up in jail somehow, they've already got good names for it), and a trip to Melbourne I think.

I saw Chris Isaak the other night. He really is something else, like some hyper-charismatic distillation of Roy Orbison, Shel Silverstein and On The Waterfront Brando. He's a year from fifty, and looks about 35.

The middle-aged women of the Illawarra absolutely lost it after the gig, when Chris came out in a candy-striped shirt and tight pants. Hundreds of them lined up to speak to him for a few seconds and get a shirt signed, and a throng formed outside the Wollongong Entertainment Centre, screams of 'wouldn't you love to take that home?' and 'look at that arse!' drifting into the balmy beach air.