Show Notes
One Christmas, I got this two-person pup tent. So stoked. We put it up right away, out in the backyard, just a stone’s throw from the house. We had a wee pool and a spa. There was a Ponga fence, and my dad had a black belt in Macramé — so by the pool there was this big, long dangling rope tree-thing, with a glass table-top hanging inside it for drinks and things. When I hear George Benson’s Give Me The Night, I instantly think of all the Miami Wine-cooler that was consumed out back. It’s a wonder there wasn’t cocaine galore and key-parties. But my mum and dad cleaned cars in their spare-time as a side-hustle to earn extra money to get ahead. All night, and most weekends. So, though there were extra keys in the bowl, they tended to stay there — well, until it was time to move the Corolla so that the Camry could have a wash, and the Starlet could zip in for some groceries. The only lines of icing sugar at our place were actual lines of proper icing sugar. For the pav. Or whatever else was for the pool-party. These parties were funny, often impromptu. Mum and dad would take ‘the team’ from work out for a staff do. And they’d all end up back at ours, the treat of which was we’d be allowed to get up and hang out with the boozed-up adults. Our great grandmother would have already taken her teeth out, snoring in the spare room until 7am regardless of noise. As soon as we heard the first splashes, me and my bro were up. We’d be allowed in the pool too, at 11pm or even 2am. Whenever it was. It was loose too. Men picking up women and tossing them in the pool. Men shoving each other in the pool. It was always the funniest thing. There were no phones in pockets then, so whole lives and systems of organisation could not crumble. Just a few dress shirts that would go on very quickly to be used as spare rags. It was always classic, somehow the funniest thing you could do — push someone in the goddamned swimming pool. Ruin their hair. But also make their day. And everyone’s night! Every now and then, a guy might complain about his shoes, and ask for time to take them off, and quick-smart he’d be shuffling his feet out so he could save them from the drink. The stereo turned all the way up, and the neighbours up, and grabbing a bottle from the pantry, heading over to join in. It’d be Icehouse’s Man of Colours, or Hall & Oates’ H20. Topical! It’d be the aforementioned George Benson, or more often his Weekend in L.A. album, because the title track and the version of On Broadway were half a side long. Each. There’d be food galore, all the ladies in the kitchen, whipping up whatever they could for a midnight snack, and then about a dozen people would cram into the spa pool and God knows what was happening in that particular Petri dish. But shit it felt like fun back then. Um, well I shouldn’t say ‘felt’ if you know what I mean…But one time, when everyone left, finally, about 3am or something, my dad agreed to sleep in the pup-tent with me. It had been up for a couple of days, and I’d used it as a sunshade during daylight hours. Me in there with my pick-a-path books. Just choosing my OWN adventure. My little Sanyo tape-deck on batteries, and my dubbed tapes of Bananarama and Cyndi Lauper. My Masters of The Universe action figures lined up around the edges of the tent. But this was going to be the first night I slept in it. I was excited. Nervous too. And I asked my dad if we’d be safe. I’m about 8 years old. And I remember asking with an irrational fear what we would do if anyone came around the back of our house and reached us in the tent. They could club us to our deaths and mum and my brother wouldn’t know until the morning, I do remember saying. We’ll be fine, dad had reassured me. And I curled up in my sleeping bag and though I remember being so nervous and so excited all at once, it was also so ridiculously late that I fell asleep before my head hit any makeshift pillow. I’d rolled up my ‘Mork’ jacket, homemade by my mum, but it squelched
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Welcome to episode three of my new podcast series — Object/ive Permanence — where in one take, no edits, I chat with someone, the conversation is captured, and you can watch and/or listen to it. The podcast is here on Substack but will go out on all the other usual Podcast channels as past of the “Sweetman Podcast” RSS. This is a new experiment. I’m talking to people about an object they bring, and from there we go wherever the conversation takes us. Of course I’ll let them talk about who they are, what they do, and current or past work, but it’s less the focus than the original Sweetman Podcast, which was audio only. For this pod, each guest is asked to bring an object, something to talk about. We get going from there. Emily Writes is an author, newsletter writer, public speaker and MC, a community fosterer and leader, an activist, and she also sometimes writes filthy, horny film reviews too. A broad range! She’s also a friend. As she says here, I’ve known her since back before she was “Emily Writes”. We met as two writers, sharing ideas and seeking advice, from there we grew our families around the same time. Emily had been on my previous podcast — the episodes are still around for you to listen to — and it’s always a good chat. So she was someone I immediately wanted on the new format. We had such a great chat, about writing, and community, and the difficulties in being public; we talked about Palestine, and fundraising, and activism and charity. We talked about family and the arc of our friendship. We talked about that pesky, necessary social media too. All up, a beautiful conversation to share. We had a lot of laughs and we might have even worked a few things out. You can subscribe to Emily’s newsletter and follow her writing here.
Welcome to episode two of my new podcast series — Object/ive Permanence — where in one take, no edits, I chat with someone, the conversation is captured, and you can watch and/or listen to it. The podcast is here on Substack but will go out on all the other usual Podcast channels as past of the “Sweetman Podcast” RSS. This is a new experiment. I’m talking to people about an object they bring, and from there we go wherever the conversation takes us. Of course I’ll let them talk about who they are, what they do, and current or past work, but it’s less the focus than the original Sweetman Podcast, which was audio only. For this pod, each guest is asked to bring an object, something to talk about. We get going from there. Dr Chris Bowden, an academic from Victoria University of Wellington, was high on my original list of potential guests, one of the first people I reached out to when rebooting my podcast. We met for the first time in the slightly awkward introduction to this conversation and interview. Chris’ PhD focused on understanding young men’s experience of losing a close male friend to suicide. Aware of his work with Mates in Construction, and as an educational psychologist, I was interested to talk with Chris and I’m so glad I did. You’ll hear us talk about Joy Division and Metallica, and we will talk about Chris’ life and work. It is a heavy conversation, but there is so much heart and humility from Dr Bowden that I would hope there’s enough light at the end of the tunnel. But absolutely take care if and when watching or listening to this pod episode. Sounds Good! is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Each month I host an open mic called ‘Say The Thing’. Poems, stories, anything people want to read or speak, provided the wrote it. I usually read a poem or two, or some short prose to kick off, so that no one else feels they have to be the ‘first reader’. This month I read two new/ish Harry Nilsson poems, since that’s my current writing obsession. I read two that I’d only just written and shared, Harry Lied: And Bojanglin’ — ostensibly about the song, ‘Mr. Bojangles’ So you can read along or read the poems instead, or check the text after. But I like sharing the odd audio recording and preserving them for the archive. So this was last week at Say The Thing. We have two more events (Oct/Nov) for 2026. Sounds Good! is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Welcome to episode one of my new podcast series — Object/ive Permanence — where in one take, no edits, I chat with someone, the conversation is captured, and you can watch and/or listen to it. The podcast is here on Substack but will go out on all the other usual Podcast channels as past of the “Sweetman Podcast” RSS. This is a new experiment. I’m talking to people about an object they bring, and from there we go wherever the conversation takes us. Of course I’ll let them talk about who they are, what they do, and current or past work, but it’s less the focus than the original Sweetman Podcast, which was audio only. For this pod, each guest is asked to bring an object, something to talk about. We get going from there. Duncan Sarkies very kindly agreed to be my first guest. And I don’t even introduce him on camera (how rude!) Duncan’s a writer of films and TV, also novels, plays, and a book of short stories. He is fresh off a spoken word show at the TAHI Festival which I reviewed: That show featured him reading stories from his most recent novel, Stargazers. We also talk a bit about the project, Uncle Bertie’s Botanarium. But beyond that this is a free-flowing conversation that isn’t about any one thing, isn’t pre-planned at all, and isn’t edited. Which is exactly what I want to do with this series of podcasts. It is very much about creativity and connecting and conversation. Which is also what I want. Less of an interview, with some questions arriving about as naturally as possible (hopefully). So, my apologies that the sound isn’t quite how I want it, but this is a work in progress. So audio-quality is on the ‘To Fix’ list. But this is listenable. And watchable. And I hope you like it.
Here’s a reading of a couple of pieces from The Richard Poems, and four new pieces, three of my Harry Nilsson poems, and a poem I wrote just two days before reading. I was the opening for A Party of Poets at The Cabana, in Napier. A terrific event, an incredible lineup to be part of — what I loved was we were all different. The seven poets reading all had different themes, content, and delivery. It’s not my right to record and share the others — but here’s my set. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it.