Coming soon. Ish.

I have boxes of clippings from my years as a journo in the gay press, taunting me from corners in the guest room.
Some are frankly best left under the bed, but others I think are worth giving an airing. What the hell.
The vast majority has never been online.

I mean really, how many people actually bought Outrage magazine?

Anyway, I have to scan and work out how best to compile it all. Although there's not a huge volume, this could take a while. After all this time, computers confront me.

Until then, here's the inspiration for this blog's title.
While working as Features Editor on Blue magazine, I'd regularly sneak ciggies in Rosella Lane behind the office, a seedy little thoroughfare around the corner from the notorious 'Tranny Steps' on William Street.

For the four or so years I worked there, the lane was a carpet of sex-and-drugs detritus – condoms, swabs, lube packets, syringes – which I photographed a bit obsessively.
But what really struck me were the little water balloons in which the dealers use to peddle smack, scattered everywhere like so much confetti.

Nihilistic yet festive!

Rosella Lane, East Sydney, 2003:

The phrase also struck a personal chord for some reason.
Can't imagine why...

Anyway, now I've committed to this thing. Hopefully won't take too long.