One of my strongest memories is the pure joy we got out of making each other laugh. Belly laughs that happened while you hung upside down on the monkey bars were even more hilarious.
Bridge of Clay is the new novel by Markus Zusak, author of The Book Thief. The new novel has been a long time coming. More than a dozen years. Stereo Stories had the privilege of Markus Zusak joining us onstage at the 2017 Williamstown Literary Festival where, backed by The Stereo Stories Band playing [...]
I felt I had discovered the greatest song of all time, and for a little while it felt like a glorious secret that only I knew about.
With the murmurings of chatter from other tables around us, our own conversation flowed smoothly, a stream without pebbles to impede the course.
This song goes off like a nail bomb. It carries, not an earworm, but an ear leech, that latches on and will not be silenced.
Slowly, I begin to understand. He thinks Australia is an army camp in South Vietnam. He thinks that’s where I’m from. And that’s when he starts screaming. And by screaming, I mean, screaming – in-fear-of-his-life screaming.
I wish I could tell you that it was our differences that eventually tore us apart. Her love of big hair and the power ballad, my love of The Residents and holding my mohawk in place with airplane glue.
I couldn't escape the crush (in both senses of the word) the first time I heard it. I was dumped, pulled under and dragged disoriented across the sandy sediment of my adolescent existence. See My Baby Jive was excoriating.
Tired. Burnt out. I want out. I don’t want to be here. I need something new. What’s next? No solid plans. Wing it. Improvise. Until the money runs out. Or until I get bored doing nothing.
My mind drifts away with the sublime guitars and complementary vocals. The song unfolds gradually but confidently, like the highway I’m driving on...past Tutye, Boinka, Linga, Underbool...