* 26 February 1981, Friday 9.30am

I’m getting irritated with Troy and Christine – I can get no peace in my flat again. I am retiring early and rising early. I’ve been smoking dope which has fogged up my sensibilities.

3 March 1981, Tuesday 8.45pm

These entries are stretching further and further apart, but I must persevere. I’ve already broken my personal record for keeping a diary.

It is raining today. The door is open. Leaves and vines are slapping wetly against each other.

Terry is strengthening the morale of the group again. We are to play on the 26th of this month at the Waltzing Matilda, supporting Johnny Farnham. That will be a splendid occasion [!] – though I shudder to think of the stress it will cause me …

Friday is coming closer. Our bills have been posted. All handbills gone. Dolores is very happy. We’re expecting a big crowd. Terry has unearthed a PR guy – a fat queen named Kevin …

On Saturday Craig McGee and his friend Warwick photographed us in and around the stormwater drains of South Yarra. Terry brought his briefcase up at least 500 yards of stuffy, cramped tunnel.

Our cover is finished. I’m on the front. Gus [of course] hated it – made much soul-destroying noise. I came away grasping my head – they all complain to me, these hideous inhuman complainers, and it chills my very spirit.

I’m reading The Tin Drum. It’s an excellent book [Oertel gave it to me while my father was dying, I think]

Christine and I had more sex than usual today – once shortly after waking, once while watching television in the afternoon. She described it as my horny day. We’re getting on much better now.

On Saturday night, dazed by speed and alcohol, I rose and urinated on Anne and Ed who were sleeping near the foot of our bed. I believed I was pissing into a dark, deep abyss. I awoke during the act and, horrified, cried out ‘My heart! My heart!’

I shall work on my crow tonight with Franka, who returned yesterday.


*

Terry Rogers looked after the Ears through a good percentage of their existence. He was a Kiwi who came to Melbourne with another group he managed, The Marching Girls, [previously The Scavengers,] who consisted of Ronnie Recent [who became Brendan Perry], Des Hefner and John Cook. At the time, Ronnie was going out with Lisa Gerrard, who was fronting a band called Microfilm, but was soon to collaborate with Ronnie on Dead Can Dance. I was fascinated with Lisa for a long time; she was an exotic flower, ethereally beautiful, and already her voice was breathtaking. She also played in a little band called Junk Logic. A mild-mannered freak named Lee Smith hammered an untuned guitar, while Lisa sang and played what may have been her Yangqin. They had a really good song called ‘Junk in Cupboards’.

The last time I saw Lisa, she was singing at Wendy’s burial under a hellish sun, perhaps ten years ago. Despite her unmistakable voice, I did not recognise her. I did not know that her brother had settled in with poor Wendy. Later, at the wake, I sought her out, aiming to say something about her incredible voice, but wound up staring …

There’s something very familiar about you, I said. She replied by saying the same thing. A few seconds later, we remembered; a capsule of very intense time, a long time before …

Terry Rogers also ran the Champion, a gig which was our home away from home north of the Yarra.

Dolores is a promoter. Amongst other things, she used to run the Exford Hotel. I think she’s with Chane Chane now, the singer from La Femme.

Franka was a rusted-on hippy chick from the Patch. Many years ago she disappeared into the psychic wilderness of Tunable Falls

Diary of 1981 - index