Hello.  He is a short list of things as they are:

• We have now booked five shows in Japan this October, with perhaps a couple more to come.  Details soon.
• Brain Cobra and Flying Diamonds are currently mixing our next single, due out in a few weeks, in Sydney.  We’ll be playing shows in Sydney (Spectrum, October 13) and Melbourne (Workers Club, Oct 29) to launch it.

The end.  Told you it was short!  Did I mention that we’ve got Twitter?  It’s sort of like this blog, except we offer you medical solutions to erectile dysfunction less often (but not never).

So here’s some crap about us from the Triple J webses instead. Hooray! Ps. Dear my boss, be quiet now.

And interview on Home And Hosed here.

Ugh. Work.

Hey, boring internet.  We have a show on Saturday.  Halloween, so get scary!

pooOOOOooosterrrrrr

Thanks heaps to Darren, Leigh, Anne, Sarah, Hannah, Tom, Lou, Tutts, Cam, Katie, Greg and all others who accommodated us in Sydney and Brisbane, tolerated our middle-of-the-night spider hunts, witnessed police brutality with us and so much more!

We played at Oxford Art Factory in Sydney last night. It was okay. The security wouldn’t let people in so not many got to see us play. Best things about the night were Megastick Fanfare and Annehelena’s 20th birthday.

Today, we’re in Brisbane, getting ready to play at the Valley Fiesta tonight. We have spent most of the day freaking out in a mad hurry, toasting in the sun, designing posters and writing stuff and busting deadlines. A bit stressful. Preparing for our single launch next week, you see. Saturday - Halloween - night in Melbourne.

Anyway. There’s no daylight savings here. I’m typing on my phone. Very sleepy. Missing home. More later, I say.

Brain Cobra and yours truly both got magically sick during/after Newcastle and Sydney shows. I’m presently under quarantine. I sure do hope they let me out of jail before our Brisbane show!

hahahah apotenitala falcon you have bene punk’d hahaa nah not rly just stolye ur title hkekekekeke

We’re in Brisbane, after a WHISTLE! STOP! tourette of Sydney and this town. No Art were my favourite thing about music this week. They are brooding, churning little nuggets of beautiful grumpy post-adolescence.

Last night we played on the tiny tiny stage at Ric’s. It was packed, and boy is the Valley trashy. We met Mixylodian’s sister and that was kind of bizarre - the resemblance - but she’s super nice. Exit amidst a whirl of pashing faces, hipster cleavage and bump, bump, bump, bump. We returned to our spiritual home here, the House On The Hill. They very kindly housed us and showered us, and Tom even read The Lorax in its entirety. It was a late night and I got the big time sillies once the clock rolled past three.

Anyway, I never want to play on a stage where I hit my elbows against the walls again. Much love, Brisbane, Sydney! Thank you Leigh, Peter, Ange, Andy, Darren, Hannah, Tom, Gemma, Sarah, Ashlee, Renee! Hello long drive to the airport! Ramps out! Hometown launchings next weekend! Practice!

Three Earth days - and 30 hours - of flying later, we’re mostly home (Brain Cobra still wanders the Northern hemisphere in search of aurora borealis and healthy organic/multigrain poutine, pffffft). Rather than focussing on the special moments of travel, like the one where Extreme Wheeze slept under the row of seats while Denim Owl slept above, or the time we waited seven hours for a flight, let’s instead reflect on a moment of interest or two from Montréal.

Keeping it real while it’s fresh, y’know?

The above is as it looks: members of Mixylodian getting all collegial with members of us (plus Mike’s pal Dave), in something of a daze after our final show together. What you can’t see in this photograph is Extreme Wheeze stuffing his face with vegetarian pizza topped with poutine. He was sick for at least two days after that effort. Fully sick!

But forget about that, because clearly the highlight of any tour is celebrity spotting. When we heard on the public address at Sydney Airport that perennial celebrity jazzy trashbag Rhonda Birchmore was being paged for a flight, Denim Owl and yours truly, cameras in hand, made pronto on the travel-ator to stake out Virgin Blue Gate 35. Perhaps it was Ms Birchmore’s Jedi Mind Trickery, or the fact that Denim Owl’s gaze was momentarily dazzled by the presence of Energy Mix in the adjacent vending machine, but she managed to slip through our (admittedly flimsy) net.*

But who gives a crap? Because Flying Diamonds and I saw Win Butler on Rue Saint-Viateur, Montréal. WIN BUTLER FROM THE FREAKING ARCADE FIRE!

By the way, those people aren’t fellow indie celeb-spotting freakazoids - they’re just a bunch of Portugese Euro Cup soccer goofs who were actually posing for a photo at the time (the photographer is hidden by their fanatical poses). Yeah, I know.

* Sorry. I know I promised I wouldn’t talk about transit, so please accept my humble apology (NSFW).