CHUNKS #1: Southern Stars

Summer, 2025
1765 Words

From the zine:
“So a flat battery turns into a dead one. Mechanic gets it going with no promises of it turning back on again. Go for an hour and a half drive he reckons. Perfect, that’ll get me to Geelong. Only problem is that little yellow light on my dashboard flashing at me like some dirty old prick on a tram who reveals an old truth best kept in its box. Your instinct is to turn away and ignore but to pretend that hard fact isn’t staring you in the face doesn’t just make you negligent, it makes you unsafe. And it’s not just yourself you’ve got to consider, it’s the passengers, pedestrians, PSO’s, your fellow countrymen, punks, posers, squares, stoners, drummer boys and ball girls, ye mariners all as ye pass by, blow ins, sell outs, the touched on, the touch not, and even that dirty old prick across the tram. 1 millimetre of yellow hell to crush all hopes and dreams of catching Rose Tattoo at the Gateway Hotel in Corio. What? You seem to have forgotten. Fuel light. Flashy flashy. Your empty tank. Tick tock. No fuel no tv make car go something something…”