EVERYBODY LOVES A LOVER by DORIS DAY. Story by Smokie Dawson.
“Well, Mr Jukebox,” the elderly man said. “How about I offer you a request?”
By Smokie|2024-12-17T12:24:30+11:00May 10th, 2024|Humour, Latest Stories, Motherhood stories|16 Comments
Two Good Soldiers, One Great War by Hugh Jones.
Hugh Jones, a decade-long supporter of and contributor to Stereo Stories, launches his book about two Tasmanian friends and World War I, in Hobart next Wednesday evening 15 May.
LAZARUS MAN by TERRY CALLIER. Story by Eric Roe.
But now I was almost nine years at the plant, and that novel was in a box in the closet, kept company by two others I’d gone on to write. The plant had become quicksand.
JACKIE by SINEAD O’CONNOR. Story by Rijn Collins.
But I remember watching Sinéad on stage. I remember trying to absorb some of her strength, to physically inhale it across the crowd. That’s how you construct identity, surely?
WATERFALLS by TLC. Poem by Michael Leach.
...we laugh in fear’s face and sing words first sung by TLC...
THE CLIMB by ALAN CUMMING. Story by Hugh Jones.
Why had nobody told me the descent from the mountain would be so much harder and more painful than the ascent? And when was this ear-worm going to disappear?
MOONGLOW by ARTIE SHAW. Poem by D. R. James.
Until/somebody’s wedding, I only saw Mom/dance big-band behind an ironing board...
THE STABLE SONG by GREGORY ALAN ISAKOV. Story by N.T. McQueen.
On her trip, she bought a baggy t-shirt at a thrift shop. Being the resident movie/book/music encyclopedia, she had asked me while she was gone if I had heard of Gregory Alan Isakov.
THIS CHARMING MAN by THE SMITHS. Story by Baz Blakeney.
Like almost every other trainee genius at art school, I played in a band. Or bands. “It’s like some Northern England punks have rediscovered Motown,” I said. In hindsight, it was a poor description, but it sounded right at the time.
VOODOO CHILE by JIMI HENDRIX. Poem by D. R. James.
Rural Illinois, 1969 Kissed-Off Lord knows I’m a voodoo chil’. —Jimi Hendrix Until that night a girl had only kissed me. Not I a girl. I was fifteen and for over a year Jimi’d been telling me he was a voodoo chil’, yeah, and I wasn’t. No moon had [...]