THE TRAVENWORLD REPORTER

presents

an extract of the unpublished novel, 'a country jesus'

with an introduction to the book extract featuring certain Background Material on the protagonsist of the book, the ephemeral and mysterious football writer, Traven Collins and certain dark aspects of his life
the travenworld reporter

from your friendly transglobal megacorporation

"High Art at Low Prices"
here is an extract from an unpublished parliamentary white paper found in a brown paper bag along with much unused currency (which was unfortunately so-called Japanese invasion money so it has little value). The Travenworld Reporter reports this information is due out in a parliamentary briefing white paper, or possibly brown paper bag, or possibly a debriefing of some unfortunate young person in the typing pool who will later bring a sexual discrimination case against someone or other. Okay but until then, you can read some of this file marked top secret (as if anybody would care) here.

DEATH OF A COUNTRY JESUS

DEATH OF A COUNTRY JESUS

DEATH OF A COUNTRY JESUS

an extract from a report

The story so far: Many years ago, an ambitious young man left a small town named Story's Crossing to try his luck in the city. His name was

Traven Collins.
The dying moments of the late 20th Century, found him living in the inner Melbourne suburbs, a world full of shattered illusions and rampant cynicism. Yet Traven yearned for the simple values of his rural childhood, he wanted to ignite the flame of truth and pursue his dream of being a serious writer.
Meanwhile, events of a more sinister nature were transpiring. While on assignment in India, the Fitzroy Press Agent witnessed the murder of the supermodel and secret agent Kate Carey by members of a heroin smuggling syndicate. It was not the first murder. A mysterious individual, Mr V.J.P. Bismas, engaged Traven Collins to work on assignment on the Sub-continent. Before leaving for India, Traven had discovered the body of Mr Bismas in a Carlton lane. Although he believed the two murders were related, Traven Collins did not inform the authorities of his involvement...nor did he tell of his suspicions that a mysterious woman named Kali was behind the killings.

Now read on...

Monday. 12.10 p.m. Broken piano notes floated about the room. It was hot, I was tired, the river was deep and the mountain was high.

Carmen Romero stopped playing and turned.

'I know a good idea you could write about,' she said.

'I don't need the idea you know about. I have my own ideas,' I said. My idea was that it was crazy to have let her move the piano out of her bedroom and into the office. Sure the light here was better for her, but her piano work had leant an ominous feeling to the day.

Broken piano notes floated down a river that was so wide no-one could cross to the other side. The memory of some great composer was being violated again. Carmen turned on her stool to face me while still playing. Or at least, her hands were striking piano keys, and a system of levers, felt hammers and pulleys was contributing to the production of a phenomenon few would dare name music.

'Hey, dude,' she said. 'Grooving to it.' A question or a statement? Who could tell? It didn't matter either way.

The end of June. The Kangaroos had beaten Essendon on Friday Night. I had written my column and Eve had e-mailed it.

I moved to the window and took in the streetscape below. Everywhere you could see, developers were knocking down okay historical buildings and replacing them with stupid rows of featureless apartments, called 'medium density'. It was goodnight to the local culture, with all its footpaths and shrubs, all the birds and parked cars, the lovers in lanes, the stormdrains, the drunks in bars talking to the men from Mars.

Story's Crossing: My grandfather claimed that scientists would find out that the moon was just a reflection of the sun. Also the next war would be fought with cutlasses by men on horses.

My cousin Jackson from the farm reckoned he'd met some Men from Mars and they were small and green and they had a flying saucer.

The spacemen stopped my cousin Jackson when he was on his bicycle just down the road by the creek and told him not to tell his parents.

But one day he came home late from school and his parents were going to give him a hiding so my cousin Jackson had to tell them the truth. Spacemen had kidnapped him and made him get home late.

If the moon was just a reflection and the Americans on the moon had been a fake set-up media manipulation thing then The Street of many Sorrows, what would it all mean? As I gazed down upon the treeming masses of about half a dozen people trudging up and down, or mugging their ways along The Street of Many Sorrows, it occurred to me that it would mean that because we...............................................................................and so on.

the end (for now)

if you wish to purchase any traven collins books or CD-ROMS or sealed kisses in a jar or whatever takes your fancy (no sex with animals,please!!!!), you can email for details

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