My brain suddenly switched on, day three. Only to feel like a tractor had picked me up and left me for dead in sad, cold Mentone. Melbourne's famous freezing mornings famously waking me up to find Rodo playing his Cd's at a volume that can and will only be classified as stupidly loud, Rod for some reason decided to embrace the gloriously hung-over blue Melbourne morning sky with such cds as 'Iron Maiden' "...the early stuff mate" to some weird relaxation sounds full of birds and rivers in the Hymalas, to Sting live in '88. Pushing the poor helpless stereo to its limits, Rod was quickly apprehended by Jamie and shortly after refused bail.

Day three is recovery day. Sit, veg and stare. Get our brains back on track, drain all alcohol from our veins. The gig tonight is at the Punters club, its a good venue in Melbourne, just the right size, and a good P.A. The only problem is we have to load out straight after playing and drive to Adelaide, only to be on stage tomorrow at two pm at Indy fest. which means no sleep, only travelling, just a very dark, boring, stark road that literally joins Melbourne and Adelaide in one straight line.

Jamie is turning into Barnsey Richo is turning into a rude little jaded school kid I'm turning into Mr. Poopy paints Peter is turning into a little Dutch girl, and Natalie Imbruglio and Rodo is turning into a D.J at the night club that no likes but people are forced to go, it being the only one opened on Tuesdays.

Before the gig at the Punters, we went to JJJ in Melbourne city studios after a short interview with Jane Gazzo, Jamie and I played Tap dancing and Only the desert knows. Richo (who organised it all) sat on the side lines and watched, giving business like affirmative nods when ever a business like affirmative nod was required by Hasto or myself.

Analogy number 52: - Richard is like the captain of the star-ship Bluebottle and whilst we're shooting through the cosmos that is the music industry or the country side, captain Richo, sometimes, not often, but sometimes lets go of the controllers and due to the lack of gravity up here Richard flies up to the roof and hits his head on the over head luggage compartment. This snaps him out of his little crisis and Richo reaches down for the seat belt to strap him self back in and take the out of control star-ship back to its original course: — CRASH LANDING.

Whilst Richo sometimes flys away for a couple of hours, Jamie is constantly slamming his head on the back wall, he wants it to stop and, yes it does hurt, but due to the lack of understanding Jamie continues to bash his head on the wall of the old decapitated ship. Where as I’m just stuck in the air conditioning vent making dull thudding noises....... Analogy number 52...... FAILURE.

Night 3 - The Punters Club, Melbourne

Night three, a joke gig of sorts, felt like I was playing with no hands, just thick stumps of wood shoved in my arms. The Punters Club was packed and Richo and I played like we were both in an avant guard noise tribute band, the sound was bad on stage, my pedals broke, my leads broke, my guitar was laughing at me and my amp was asleep.

The set tonight:-

• Hounds of love
• Boredom you are breaking my Heart
• Sister
• Homeless Blueless
• Generic teen
• Maps to help you lose your way
• Tap dancing on the Titanic
• Kerry and Jill
• Helping you Hate me

Homeless Blueless is a new song that we've just finished spending five weeks, twice a week, rehearsing but tonight we stuffed it up. Maps another new song was started wrongly three times. Oh well these things happen, I suppose. So now to the drive ahead.

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