In a shoebox - long taped shut - I recently found some treasures from my childhood. Amongst the magnetic frogs, .22 bullet, 1961 penny, mangy old tip of a cat’s tail, ‘Jaws’, vials of powder synthesised in Chemistry class, trophy for best forward in under sevens Rugby union, etc I found a small buff envelope. It had “four teeth, Oct & Nov ‘76″ written on it.
Those were the days when the Fashion in Dentistry was to pre-emptively extract the rear molars of adolescents to give the wisdom teeth room to emerge. I’m still waiting for one of them to come.
As I was on my way home from Zo's Just about four years ago The trees were putting on a show That made my imagination glow. I was so taken by their hues I decided that what I'd do Would be to show their beauty to the few That meander my humble website through. But seasons come and seasons pass And I seemed forever on my arse, So I forsook my pleasant task And focussed on the daily farce. And now that it is spring again The buds renewed; my prospect changed. Accepting claims of legerdemain I present: "September blossoms in the rain".
Here is a watercolour I did one afternoon at Scrivener Street. It is signed “Estaban 10-1-92″. There were several Stephens there at the time, so I wanted to differentiate myself (as well as alluding to some kind of relationship with the Spanish language and perhaps, by extension, with Pablo Picasso, LOL). You can see the front wheels of a pair of motor bikes, and an esky with what may be a cask of red wine sitting on top of it. I’m not sure why the insect is crawling down fromthe top border. It was summer though; there would have been a fair bit of insect activity under the tree where we were painting.
I think the subject was my colleague Stephen, or perhaps his brother Tim. Judging by the hair and my vague recollection, I’d put my money on Tim.
We were doing some paintings for entry into the Canberra Times Art Exhibition, which is a public art show that runs each year during the Canberra Day festivities in March. At the time, I was very proud that my artistic integrity was not compromised by actually saelling any of my works. Stephen B on the other had had no such qualms, and evidently a less avant guarde style. He sold quite well.
Here is an item recently recovered from the Scrivener Street archive.
Nothing less than the original lyrics to Slam Dancer.
Written by Ken (and the rest of the band?) during one of the ballroom sessions of the Suspect Mushrooms. The lineup at the time was Moore, Curry, Barrass and Pratt. The year would have been 1991.
I’m pretty sure that “180″ stands for 180 beats per minute. “A63″ may be a drum kit code or a harmonica label.
It was a catchy little song that got a few people’s toes tapping; one sometimes heard snatches of it sung after performances. I’ve altered the words a little to accord with my recollection of how they were actually sung.
Born in a storm that made me cry;
They couldn’t stop it.
I was christened in a font of my father’s vomit.
Raised in a shack - I wore a dog collar.
I aint no saint, I aint no scholar[chorus:]
Now I’m back (wo-oh)
Back in black
Wo-oh: SLAMDANCER
Wo-oh: SLAMDANCERDoubt trout doubt spout Doubt doubt doubt
My right eye offended me so I gouged it out
I like music and I like it fast
Aint got not future. Aint got no past[chorus]
Coming soon: some drawings and the infamous “choreBase”, which was the inspiration to “shitBase”. Sadly, the latter has not yet been recovered from the archive.
Guest contribution from Captain Ken, first published in www.archeologytoday!.com.
Dateline: Somewhere Between Canberra and Up North
In all my years as a journalist for this prestigious magazine, I can honestly say I have not been more thrilled by an SMS message than the one I received earlier today.
For many years a significant piece of Tribal History has been lost, presumed destroyed in the Great Fire of 1989. Imagine my surprise and amazement to discover that the “Scrivener Street Chronicle” has been found!
This amazing discovery was made by none other than noted archeologist Dr Shtevie J. Pratt (esq.). For the last nine months Dr Pratt has been working with the help of a labour force of 73 dedicated coolies, and a D9 front end loader, on the Huge Paper Pile. This massive mound is oft referred to as the “The Most Complete Record of Transactional Minutae Ever Compiled in Human History”. Today, the “Pile” spewed forth one of its greatest treasures, the “Scrivener Street Chronicle”.
Written by monks on vellum sometime in the 1990’s, and illustrated in the psychadelic-celtic style, the “Scrivener Street Chronicle” records dates of an even earlier time, known to some as “the 80’s”. This was a time before civilisation: when cars ran on pure lead, university was free, and more alchohol was drunk than coffee.
Although the authors of the chronicle remain shrouded in the mists of time, their voices can still be heard across the eons from that dim age. And what unbelievable knowledge do they convey! Already historians have made the shocking discovery that ONLY ONE HOUSE existed at 103 scrivener street, not the 40 storey multiplex that is there today. Just as astonishing is the fact that the small chamber leading from the Lounge Gallery was not, as was commonly taught in schools, a place for quiet meditation, but in fact a storage area known as the “Box Room”,which was never entered, remaining sealed for some 12 years.
Further shocking discoveries are sure to be made, as teams of cryptographers decipher the Chronicle, which was written in the language of the day. The strangest thing about the language of the Chronicle is that it has 27 words meaning “Door” at various degrees of volume, inflection and cadence.
This not the first treasure that Dr Pratt has wrest from the bosom of “The Pile” . Earlier this year the “Lost Tax Deduction Receipts” were also found.
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