1996 and I'm on Warraber Island in the Torres Strait as a young engineer checking the water level in the local reservoir over a 24 hour period (we suspected it had a leak). I had to do take measurements every 3 hours so sleep was not really an option. I had this book the whole time. In between checking I would read it sitting under a tree during the day and by torchlight at night. The locals were wondering why this white boy was giggling so much. It is still to this day one of my favourite memories.
I can't wait to read it again - it will be like catching up with an old friend.
JB, I was living in a share house in Indooroopilly, in Stamford Rd right across the street from the shopping centre, when Felafel came out. I read the first few pages and it felt like you'd stolen my (non-existent) diary. Through multiple share house moves over the ensuing 6 or 7 years, I lost my copy. It was probably stolen by that prick from Nundah. So put me down for a hard version, and I'll pick up a couple more for those former housemates who are still with us (and I mean with us corporeally, not still in my actual house). LYW.
Testify. $2 quarter-chicken-and-chips for me. On Tuesdays at Donut King, you could also get 8 fresh cinnamon donuts for a further $2. A good pickup to recover from the Monday night beers and multiple $2 quarter-chicken-and-chips, ahead of a blindingly, nay criminally, early 11am tutorial.
Thanks. I knew a guy 'J' who was either a temporary transit inhabitant of that house or spent some time there as a friend of an inhabitant (I'll have to ask them one of these days). But I was regaled with outlandish stories including that one guy from the house was writing it into a book, and then later the book actually came out! (writers and writing was something other people not in our world did) It's a small world.
J was from Surry Hills and much much later joined the firies. I'll have to do some digging what house, when etc.
It was the 'old days' when Rudie's and Punks (Us) ran around Surry Hills, Glebe and Newtown (Before it became gentrified) and the Sandringham on King st Newtown was the sort of place where we flipped coins to see who would use the half of the cue stick with the actual cue, and me as a young punk was doing his 'punk apprenticeship' and having his mind blown -late 80's early 90's,)
Like I said I'll find out more we'll share it over a coffee or a beer next time you're in Canberra or I'm in Brisbane.
Yeah, what everyone else said (except Paul B, the bastard, I can't beat a 'Torres Straight Birmingham under the palms' anecdote).
60 now - how the fk did that happen? - but my first share house was at Spring Hill, one of Celia McNally's old workers cottages. And it's still there. First flatmate a foppish Australian-Irish Peter Pan, followed up by one half of the Acid Twins.
Reading "Felafel", having just lived my 20s flitting between friends' couches in Brisbane and Newcastle and Sydney (whilst still living off of Leichhardt St), yes, it really did seem that someone was secretly copying my diary (as Mike says). *such* a weird feeling! Walking between Spring and Red Hills, or Spring Hill down to West End (the Old West End) and not thinking the walking bit weird. Walking and surreptitiously skirting any police, not because I was carrying ('cause I didn't) or doing anything wrong, but because these were Joh-era cops (the spawning grounds of Duttons-to-be) and nobody trusted Joh-era cops.
Well, should I pop into Pulp Fiction and see a 30th anniversary edition (I reiterate: how the fk did that happen?) in the wild, I shall most certainly pick it up.
Quick side query, re the theatrical development: in the mid-noughties, as an actor, I was working with a Sam(antha) who stated - and my memory is fuzzy here - that she and a group of friends had workshopped the theatrical "Felafel" up at Toowoomba. Yes/No?
Hi JB - I felt much the same sense of delighted excitement reading Felafel as I did reading Fear and Loathing, but it was better because you were writing about a world I (sort of) knew. One of the more referenced articles I've churned out over about 30 years of writing is this SMH one on the travails of our generation, which contains the following immortal line: "We're too cynical for the left. The socialist project had already failed by the 1960s when our boomer betters took it up. Why would we repeat their mistake?" says 43-year-old John Birmingham, whose He Died With a Felafel in His Hand serves as the Aussie Xers' On The Road.
Congrats on the anniversary - people are always impressed when I tell them I've interviewed the author of Felafel a couple of times and that he's exactly like you'd expect him to be in real life. Hope you shift many units (I'll be buying several copies) and fatten up that super account.
Oh man. I remember my first reading of Fear and Loathing. I bought it at the University bookstore at UQ and read it on the train going home to Ipswich that afternoon. It felt like Thompson turned my brain inside out, like an old sock. Thanks for digging up that quote.
John: Thanks for the generosity re He Died with a Felafel etc: Just purchased. And for the feelings expressed at the close of this newsletter mail-out. You have exactly that same big-heartedness I thought i saw around 14, 15 years ago after my return from a similar number of years in Japan when I took note of your presence and comments on Jennifer Byrnes' Book Show on the ABC. Jim
Read this 30 years ago (and lived much of it). Now my only thing I want to do this weekend is read it again! Got a reunion with my friends from 30 years ago next weekend, and this will do very nicely to remind me of the colour and flavour of that time. Thanks (again) JB!
Every now and then I start something new, expecting to be innovative and at the front of cultural developments - like writing a book. And then I find out I am doing exactly the same thing at the same time when everybody else has this unique and niche idea. Now publishers are trying everything to hide away from the avalanche of amateurs who can't stop banging down their door. But then there are accomplished writers like yourself. I absolutely love your column and can't wait to get my hands on the Falafel book. Keep up the good work John.
I was living in a share house in Paddo (Brisbane, of course!) when Felafel came out. I think my favourite part was your story about waking up in a lecture & thinking you were in another dimension but it was just a foreign language class (I haven’t read it for years but this anecdote stayed with me) still makes me giggle as I can just picture it 🤣 I also saw what I think was the first theatrical adaption at The Zoo in The Valley. Of course I’m almost 53 now & the memories are a bit fuzzy. Probs went for a dance upstairs at the Empire afterwards at Super Deluxe. Ah, the Valley in the 90s …. Good memories!
No wonder it resonates with me after all these years! My year 12 daughter is planning to study Chinese at UQ as it’s her best subject in school (she did all her primary schooling in Singapore - a far cry from her mother growing up in Brisbane’s east side suburbia)
Congrats on the anniversary JB and can’t wait to get my hands on a hard copy. Are you reading an audiobook version?
Falafel is Uni days in Tsv in the 90s, JJJs Helen Razer and Mikey Robbin’s prompting their frothing audience to reveal similar grotesque stories of indiscrete mating, cooking gone wrong and questionable hygiene.
Your “process” reminded me of my own 4-6 week stimulant fuelled writing binge, though suspect my thesis on tropical mollusc reproductive biology ain’t exactly flying off the shelf - then or when it’s 30 next year. Oh the farking drama of computer files corrupted or wonky formatting at the last hurdle before handing over the manuscript to the printer… then collapsing into hard earned relief coma in the debauched share house of fish tank bucket bongs, home piercings, home brew, refrigerated biohazards and nocturnal growls n groans shaking the Queenslander on its stumps.
Those were definitely the days… nudging my 20yo out of the comfort of Chateau de M&D to go live that style to get some life perspective. I’ll give him a copy for his 21st in august to tempt him out of here! If he’s still here after Christmas it might have scared him to stay put!
1996 and I'm on Warraber Island in the Torres Strait as a young engineer checking the water level in the local reservoir over a 24 hour period (we suspected it had a leak). I had to do take measurements every 3 hours so sleep was not really an option. I had this book the whole time. In between checking I would read it sitting under a tree during the day and by torchlight at night. The locals were wondering why this white boy was giggling so much. It is still to this day one of my favourite memories.
I can't wait to read it again - it will be like catching up with an old friend.
I love this story. Thanks Paul.
I fucking love you JB. I. Fucking. Love. You.
This is the highlight of my day, Roger.
JB, I was living in a share house in Indooroopilly, in Stamford Rd right across the street from the shopping centre, when Felafel came out. I read the first few pages and it felt like you'd stolen my (non-existent) diary. Through multiple share house moves over the ensuing 6 or 7 years, I lost my copy. It was probably stolen by that prick from Nundah. So put me down for a hard version, and I'll pick up a couple more for those former housemates who are still with us (and I mean with us corporeally, not still in my actual house). LYW.
I did a lot of time at Indroops. Mostly at the pub, washing down Big Rooster chips and gravy with a lot of beer.
Testify. $2 quarter-chicken-and-chips for me. On Tuesdays at Donut King, you could also get 8 fresh cinnamon donuts for a further $2. A good pickup to recover from the Monday night beers and multiple $2 quarter-chicken-and-chips, ahead of a blindingly, nay criminally, early 11am tutorial.
Oh man, we probably threw up on each others Dunlop Volley's
You're one of the good ones JB. I'll be getting myself that hard copy. Gotta let it join its brothers.
Kinda glad the Tasmanian Babes chapter got left out, I love that book.
Yeah, there was a lot of panic at the time, fueled by whiskey and speed, but it turned out to be a left-handed gift
As a left-hander, not sure what to make of that! lol
It’s an old saying. I am also a Southpaw
It's got something sinister about it...
(Excuse me while I laugh at my own joke).
That’s fine. I’ll be over here rolling my eyes.
Thanks. I knew a guy 'J' who was either a temporary transit inhabitant of that house or spent some time there as a friend of an inhabitant (I'll have to ask them one of these days). But I was regaled with outlandish stories including that one guy from the house was writing it into a book, and then later the book actually came out! (writers and writing was something other people not in our world did) It's a small world.
Onya JB
You had my attention, now you have obssessive interest
J was from Surry Hills and much much later joined the firies. I'll have to do some digging what house, when etc.
It was the 'old days' when Rudie's and Punks (Us) ran around Surry Hills, Glebe and Newtown (Before it became gentrified) and the Sandringham on King st Newtown was the sort of place where we flipped coins to see who would use the half of the cue stick with the actual cue, and me as a young punk was doing his 'punk apprenticeship' and having his mind blown -late 80's early 90's,)
Like I said I'll find out more we'll share it over a coffee or a beer next time you're in Canberra or I'm in Brisbane.
Yeah, what everyone else said (except Paul B, the bastard, I can't beat a 'Torres Straight Birmingham under the palms' anecdote).
60 now - how the fk did that happen? - but my first share house was at Spring Hill, one of Celia McNally's old workers cottages. And it's still there. First flatmate a foppish Australian-Irish Peter Pan, followed up by one half of the Acid Twins.
Reading "Felafel", having just lived my 20s flitting between friends' couches in Brisbane and Newcastle and Sydney (whilst still living off of Leichhardt St), yes, it really did seem that someone was secretly copying my diary (as Mike says). *such* a weird feeling! Walking between Spring and Red Hills, or Spring Hill down to West End (the Old West End) and not thinking the walking bit weird. Walking and surreptitiously skirting any police, not because I was carrying ('cause I didn't) or doing anything wrong, but because these were Joh-era cops (the spawning grounds of Duttons-to-be) and nobody trusted Joh-era cops.
Well, should I pop into Pulp Fiction and see a 30th anniversary edition (I reiterate: how the fk did that happen?) in the wild, I shall most certainly pick it up.
Quick side query, re the theatrical development: in the mid-noughties, as an actor, I was working with a Sam(antha) who stated - and my memory is fuzzy here - that she and a group of friends had workshopped the theatrical "Felafel" up at Toowoomba. Yes/No?
Sounds legit
That last note is lovely to read. You’re a special bloke, and I’m glad I helped you share that with some students down here. Enjoy your day, mate.
Hi JB - I felt much the same sense of delighted excitement reading Felafel as I did reading Fear and Loathing, but it was better because you were writing about a world I (sort of) knew. One of the more referenced articles I've churned out over about 30 years of writing is this SMH one on the travails of our generation, which contains the following immortal line: "We're too cynical for the left. The socialist project had already failed by the 1960s when our boomer betters took it up. Why would we repeat their mistake?" says 43-year-old John Birmingham, whose He Died With a Felafel in His Hand serves as the Aussie Xers' On The Road.
Congrats on the anniversary - people are always impressed when I tell them I've interviewed the author of Felafel a couple of times and that he's exactly like you'd expect him to be in real life. Hope you shift many units (I'll be buying several copies) and fatten up that super account.
Oh man. I remember my first reading of Fear and Loathing. I bought it at the University bookstore at UQ and read it on the train going home to Ipswich that afternoon. It felt like Thompson turned my brain inside out, like an old sock. Thanks for digging up that quote.
No problem, thanks for treating me so graciously when we've interacted, in person or digitally, over the years.
John: Thanks for the generosity re He Died with a Felafel etc: Just purchased. And for the feelings expressed at the close of this newsletter mail-out. You have exactly that same big-heartedness I thought i saw around 14, 15 years ago after my return from a similar number of years in Japan when I took note of your presence and comments on Jennifer Byrnes' Book Show on the ABC. Jim
Read this 30 years ago (and lived much of it). Now my only thing I want to do this weekend is read it again! Got a reunion with my friends from 30 years ago next weekend, and this will do very nicely to remind me of the colour and flavour of that time. Thanks (again) JB!
Just wanted to tip the hat to a good bloke.
I can't find my hard copy of Felafel or Babe's. Yet I have read them. Going to have to give you some money. Ah well, good cause.
Every now and then I start something new, expecting to be innovative and at the front of cultural developments - like writing a book. And then I find out I am doing exactly the same thing at the same time when everybody else has this unique and niche idea. Now publishers are trying everything to hide away from the avalanche of amateurs who can't stop banging down their door. But then there are accomplished writers like yourself. I absolutely love your column and can't wait to get my hands on the Falafel book. Keep up the good work John.
Thanks Volker!
That's a beautiful thing you're doing 👍👍 oh & please tell me ' teaks ' was deliberate 🤣
Ha. It was not, but Imma leave it.
I was living in a share house in Paddo (Brisbane, of course!) when Felafel came out. I think my favourite part was your story about waking up in a lecture & thinking you were in another dimension but it was just a foreign language class (I haven’t read it for years but this anecdote stayed with me) still makes me giggle as I can just picture it 🤣 I also saw what I think was the first theatrical adaption at The Zoo in The Valley. Of course I’m almost 53 now & the memories are a bit fuzzy. Probs went for a dance upstairs at the Empire afterwards at Super Deluxe. Ah, the Valley in the 90s …. Good memories!
It was a Chinese language class at University of Queensland, and I can almost teleport myself back there now thinking about it
No wonder it resonates with me after all these years! My year 12 daughter is planning to study Chinese at UQ as it’s her best subject in school (she did all her primary schooling in Singapore - a far cry from her mother growing up in Brisbane’s east side suburbia)
Congrats on the anniversary JB and can’t wait to get my hands on a hard copy. Are you reading an audiobook version?
Falafel is Uni days in Tsv in the 90s, JJJs Helen Razer and Mikey Robbin’s prompting their frothing audience to reveal similar grotesque stories of indiscrete mating, cooking gone wrong and questionable hygiene.
Your “process” reminded me of my own 4-6 week stimulant fuelled writing binge, though suspect my thesis on tropical mollusc reproductive biology ain’t exactly flying off the shelf - then or when it’s 30 next year. Oh the farking drama of computer files corrupted or wonky formatting at the last hurdle before handing over the manuscript to the printer… then collapsing into hard earned relief coma in the debauched share house of fish tank bucket bongs, home piercings, home brew, refrigerated biohazards and nocturnal growls n groans shaking the Queenslander on its stumps.
Those were definitely the days… nudging my 20yo out of the comfort of Chateau de M&D to go live that style to get some life perspective. I’ll give him a copy for his 21st in august to tempt him out of here! If he’s still here after Christmas it might have scared him to stay put!
I bought it when it came out. They had bookshops then.
25 years later I moved house (not sharing). Turned out I was living very, very close to one of the Felafel film locations.
Strange for Brisbane, but I've never seen a toad around here. Not one.