Categorized | Musings

A stitch in time…

A collage of memories, relived as I sat on my bedroom floor cutting and glueing posters from bygone gigs. Last summer has been cross stitched into my mind, and if you look closely between the stitches in the guns and the lettering, you might catch a glimpse of a Gracetown sunset, or the rickety roller coaster at Luna Park. In the dressing table mirror below,  you will find the winter preceding. Pedalling through dew and drizzle to the school on the hill, the vaguely audible sound of the Galaga tune and spaceship fire over the din of hibernating souls in cosy pubs, and the night we danced by the dressing table in the tiny bar and cinema and saw the song come to life. Beneath it all, fading to grey and discernible only in occasional pockets, lies the winter before. The first winter in a new city, and the first gig, in a living room bar on Hoddle street. Cut and pasted with all that is unspoken, and tied with a red bow, which in itself holds a compendium of memories, including the time it was knitted in the hands of a criminal and waved off the back of a fire truck.