Show Notes
You can read the text below — and/or click on the arrow above to listen to the podcast of the story (also available on Sweetman Podcast on Spotify, Amazon, Apple and wherever you get your podcasts) Michaela remembers when things were different. She is thinking this while winding the spool of tape from her cassette back into itself with a trusty pencil. Who even uses pencils these days she thinks as she slots the tape into the stereo’s open deck and though the sound crumbles into place at first, soon she is listening to Tori Amos singing her birthday-cake cabaret about chasing nuns in the yard, running naked, unmasked, while it’s raining. At least the music takes her places — lets her live thirty years ago, transports her in some sense. What good is now? Where is the magic in this exact world? Ben takes the book from the shelf, sees the inscription to himself — he really met the author, they had a beer, they had a chat. And after that, he took the book home, to live with the words some more. A while from then, a baby needed nappies, a downsizing took place as well, so he sold the book for scraps of change. He missed it more than any of the others. But then — what chance — he found it again at one of those charity sales with the cardboard boxes that heave and all the airport novels no longer going anywhere. He paid the ten bucks to fill a bag; donated back everything else he bought — all he wanted was that one. It sits with the small handfuls of other books he never sold and never will. It gives him something to hold on to still. It’s good to have something to hold. And to hold onto the story around the book as well as the one within it. Ben met the author. Did you know that? Ron reckons records are always making a comeback, because every time a new streaming platform opens, several old albums disappear down the back of the metaphorical couch — deep into the metaphysical void. It’s nice to be the keeper of the same old memories that re-enter the consciousness when the revolutions reach thirty-three and one third every minute. Ron knows he can never undo the damage he’s done, the needle strikes down into the groove, and to reverse the record would only make more of a mess. He knows that. But tears deserve a soundtrack. And so, there is still — and always — some happiness this way. Stella lifts the photo album out from the box from under the bed. She blows the dust from the cover, and studies the inside of the folder: A piece of paper with only remnants of its original sellotape but the years have pushed the paper to the plastic, a tighter bond than many of the people in the pictures have with each other now. But you have to honour the dead. And the passing of time is just another casualty in this war we are all fighting regardless of sign-up. Stella sees her parents making nice, and their parents all standing proud. She sees herself, though can barely recognise the place or why she’s dressed that way. She has a box of letters from her brother Evan. But she could never read his writing. Nina doesn’t think that Netflix is the enemy as such, but everything’s made to look the same. It’s all designed to be viewed as if a shop window, but no one has thought much further than lining up the product. She has bought back DVDs from the garage sales and second-hand stores. She has exact copies of films she once owned; she has movies she’s never seen and may never get to either, but she has them as a finite collection, a way of making some sense in the world. A way of cutting through the infinite. Some days feel just like a knife. It’s good to be able to stab into the finite. Wirimu holds the feathers from the skirt his mother wore for school performances. Only a few remain. He put them in his hair before they made him take them out, before they made him answer to William, before he knew the rest of the skirt was rushed out in a box with anything else that suddenly felt leftover. Wiremu strokes the feathers. He says his mum meant more tha
More from Sweetman Podcast
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.