From the Sports Desk is a passion project, inspired by the great Hunter S Thompson. He once said:
“As things stand now, I am going to be a writer. I’m not sure that I’m going to be a good one or even a self-supporting one, but until the dark thumb of fate presses me to the dust and says ‘you are nothing’, I will be a writer.”
And I resonate with that. It’s what I do. From illegible lists and inky notes on my hand to unedited masterpieces that slink through the lonely heart of my hard drive, destined to be forever unloved.
He also said:
“Journalism is not a profession or a trade. It is a cheap catch-all for fuckoffs and misfits – a false doorway to the backside of life, a filthy piss-ridden little hole nailed off by the building inspector, but just deep enough for a wino to curl up from the sidewalk and masturbate like a chimp in a zoo-cage.”
Which is more strident. Personally I prefer:
“Good people drink good beer.”
From the Sports Desk is my search for Australiana, for all that tells of the heart and soul of this wide brown land. Coated in fluff, swamped in metaphor and generally heavy on the nostalgia, Australiana lurks in the darkest corners and glints in the bright light, from the cramped urban swamp to the blood red pindan of the west, from isolated communities in the harsh heart, aching and cracked, to acid green forests that straddle a jagged coast heavy on things that eat you.
Australiana is society’s mythical beast. We search, we question and when we find it we are embarrassed by it. It is the glittery unicorn sticker you can’t prise off the retro wooden pencil case you want to reuse. Or the sauce stains on Wol’s wifebeater, scabby with age. It is a dusty International Roast jar beneath a sign proclaiming Fresh Coffee; it is AC/DC, Hills Hoists, Pavlova and fibros. It’s Puberty Blues, jam tarts, bush tucker and Blinky Bill.
And to me it’s gold.
Encouraged by my attorney, and accompanied by the Cowboy and the Tin Lid, or my secretary (a more organised creature I have yet to meet), this is the search for Australiana.
Love your philosophy and love the way you put it into words. You’ve just gained another follower 🙂
I understand you report on snipits in time and agree that the direct area of Homebush Parramatta Road had died at that time. It still is a strip of closed shops and a vacant old Theatre. Yet the pub has sprung back well. I don’t disagree with you, well only over a single point. The occupation of the Theatre by squatters was viewed by the locals as illegal and suspicious and not viewed as breathing new life. More an invasion of illegal unknowns. Besides that single point, I agree with you’re view of Parramatta Road Homebush at that time as it’s accurate. .
I wish you well with you’re website as it captures moments in time. You’re out there saying how you’ve seen it and I respect that.
Cheers and best wishes, Dave