The seeds of Stereo Stories can partly be traced to a story I pitched to The Big Issue in 2009, four years before I began this website.
Most teenagers don’t want to be seen dead with their parents, let alone dance with them, but for some reason, I knew magic was being created in this little Dee Why record shop.
It’s a raucous, shambolic, ranting wreck of a song, which ends with a well-oiled Leonard chanting.
It’s a song about the frisson of sexual and romantic connection and what’s so piquant and poignant about it is that the film is about dashed opportunities for such possibilities.
With the murmurings of chatter from other tables around us, our own conversation flowed smoothly, a stream without pebbles to impede the course.
As I pulled up to the Astor cinema and circled around for a park the band’s Everyday Formula reverberated through the tinny stereo system: My whole world's cheap and phony/ Dear hearts get lost and lonely/ I'll get what's coming to me soon.
For once, people in Los Angeles and London and New York might be sitting around listening to a song about where I lived, rather than my sitting around listening to songs about all the places that they live.
Save for the weeds, not much grows in our front yard. The soil is rubbish, almost literally. “What’s the plan?” my neighbour says cheerily, as I'm weeding.
As a teenage boy in a dark suburban room, I was a long way from the turnpikes of New Jersey. I didn't have a job, a car or a girl, just an Apollo 10-speed bicycle and a dungeon I called my own. What on earth was I connecting with here?
Vin Maskell Palliative care hospital ward, Melbourne, 2014 The yellow line takes you to the Multiple Sclerosis ward. Green for Motor Neurone Disease. Blue for Parkinson’s Disease. You keep an eye on the yellow line as you side-step trolleys and wheelchairs, patients and nurses, volunteers and other visitors.