Wednesday, April 19, 2006

he died with a felafel in his hands...

I’ve just finished reading ‘he dies with a felafel in his hand’ by John Birmingham and I bloody loved it.

It’s a great read of assorted crazy stories about living in share houses in the 90’s and because most of the stories are set in Brisbane it really picked my interest.

This is one of my favourite parts of the book…

I moved into the house during a hail storm.

Wound up on my first night sitting on the veranda with Danny and his housemates Margot and Wayne, drinking hot sweet tea and passing a joint around, nobody talking, as we watched the storm build up way out over the western ranges, raising a dark monstrous anvil in the sky, filling the air with crackling ozone and static and a weird green light that rendered things flatter and harder than they really were.

As it closed down on us, we could see the lowest tiers were boiling and swirling and carrying the whole storm system along on a fast running stream of mottled sticky yellow sky.

I reached for the tim tams as the first hail stoned began bouncing off our corrugated iron roof. Trees bent. The wind briefly whipped up a dusty twister of leaves and old chip packets and a sheet of newspaper, sent them whirling across our front path just before the sky cracked open and fell in on our house.

This is a brilliantly descriptive picture of what it is like to be in a summer storm up here in Queensland.


Anonymous said...

and then he made a living out of being a stoner and writing about it!!bastard!

Deb said...

I just have one question. What is a tim tam?

mark robert allen said...

yeah he's a great writer, the bastard!
for a description of tim tams, check out the post above.