Driven To Sex.....a review by Gerard Zochling

DRIVEN TO SEX is the story of Patrick Wilkins-Jones (Paddo), a single 30-something Australian man coming to terms with his new life of driving prostitutes for a living, in the city of Perth.

It begins seemingly as a simple left-hand turn to the dark side by the main character, and ends with so much in between to absorb, this book may very well become your social life till you finish it.

Unless you have driven hookers in Perth for a living.

It is Hocking’s control of the writing at perfect revs in plot and character development, which has created a story of love, affection, and curiosity that opens my heart. Plus, it’s the fistful of wild and willful hooker tales running parallel with the age-old question of whether a man can love a prostitute and is he able to accept the rest of the awkward river stones that go with it?

The problems and solutions the novel reveals make it a compelling social document.

In fact, night-after-night the hyper-weird menu of male sexual tastes these ladies have to try and satisfy in the suburbs of Perth provide a telling contrast with the calm and gentle deliberation of their driver, despite his early anxiousness. In Paddo, Hocking draws a main character who has an empathy few Australian males so outwardly possess.

Thankfully, Hocking doesn’t use your stereotypical 400-mile-an-hour MALE LARRIKIN AUSSIE CHARACTER to unearth the vulnerabilities of each hooker’s humanity. He simply uses Paddo's own vulnerable confusion and unusual approach to life, which he slowly and surely shares, to allow these women the opportunity to disclose their own pain and joy on their journey.

And in the slaughterhouse of Perth’s prostitution game, it proves a winning formula, as the aspiring novelist transforms into an unrealised hero. And this is the nub. Even in his most lucid moments, Paddo fails to realise it is his generosity of understanding which ultimately drives the novel to its resolution.

Indeed, Hocking has written a novel which also mixes a subplot of murder, and the difficult flower of family relationships while seamlessly detailing his love for the most isolated city in the world.

On that note, as Paddo is working through his own moral shortcomings, he discovers not only the loneliness of the city he works in, but also the loneliness of the women he works with, and ultimately his own.

The novel’s conclusion exemplifies Hocking’s immaculate radar for storytelling at the right speed. Unforgettable.


By Gerard Zochling
30 August 2013

The shark is out...

 

"Most of us would know how your mind can drift when you're out surfing. A nearby disturbance in the water, and you unfortunately start to picture the worst. You may envisage getting away by the skin on its teeth, or imagine being chomped. I would be surprised however, if any of us actually contemplated what it would be like after you have been eaten alive.

David Hocking did, and wrote a novel about just that."

smorgasboarder.com.au

The Secret to Life, via the Marketing Crab.

I studied marine biology at uni but I needed to leave science altogether before I truly understood what it meant to be an industrious, busy little crab. I’m a marketer.

Twice a week I rise at 4am for my working day at a large outdoor market. Thankfully my stall set-up is relatively simple. Competition is high and it took me a while to get a permanent spot, even longer to gain the trust and friendship of my fellow marketers.

Dave (Sagittarius) and Bec (Pisces) next to me sell his colourful paintings, two of which hang in my house. The bubbly and ridiculous George, diagonally opposite, sells wine glasses he paints. He’s another Sagg’ like me and a staunch atheist, even though he freely admits he’s had past lives.

Heidi (Capricorn), directly opposite, is a loud, bustling blonde whose smile is larger than my car. She makes clothes for kiddies and, like her, they’re not normal. My other neighbour Jude (Gemini) sells bags adorned with prints of Australian fauna. Every morning I ask her how her horses are. She appears in front of me looking all dreamy-eyed. “They’re great!” she says. “I had such a beautiful ride in the forest yesterday.” She asks if I’ve been surfing and I tell her my ups and downs. Soon, it’s my job to read out everyone’s star-sign.

Then the first early-bird customers begin ambling down our aisle, all rugged-up. (Yes, Queensland can be cold in the morning.) We crabs smile and cajole, and talk, and laugh, and just like those bustling crustaceans at the ocean’s edge, each of us tries to snag a feed. Oh yes, we look happy and nonchalant in our inviting little stalls but, make no mistake, it’s dog-eat-dog down here in the inter-tidal zone.

“What’s wrong with people today?” George’ll ask me, frantic, if early sales are bad. It might be the weather, the music, the economy – who knows?

Unlike most stall-holders, I sell a book that needs explaining. After two years of this I’ve probably had decent discussions with over 10,000 people. Like my colleagues, I now consider myself an expert in body language, but I’ll tell you something else I’ve learnt:

Each of us arrives as a blank canvus and we’re painted-on by a set of genes, family histories, religion, society, friends. Look into someone’s eyes properly. You’ll see a spiritual being who, no matter what they are talking about, is uttering the following phrases:

I want to get love.

I want to give love.

I want to have fun.

All you have to do is listen and love them back.

The Mothers Day Swell - a surfing poem!

G'day, Hock here.

The following poem is not mine. It's Jack's. It belongs out in the world, however.

I've attempted to get in touch with him but that man just dont answer his phone.

But I have his permission. I've already read it on radio, here in Noosa.

He orated this poem aloud to me and a few others, Christmas Day in about 2009.

He agreed to write it down on paper and mail it to me, which he did.

But he wrote it years before that, I'm pretty sure. 

At the time I didn't surf.

And I considered it one of the best Australian peoms I've ever heard.

Now I surf. And life isn't normal. At least, it'll never be same again....

So, thanks again Jack Roberton, where ever you are.

Enjoy.... love Hock x

 

Jack Roberton. Lennox Head, NSW.

“The Mother’s Day Swell.”

No-one knows from where it came

This rumour as it were

But for the tribes of the Northern Rivers

Disbelievin’ was a slur

For only once or twice in any surfers life

do not words such as these betray

of a great southern swell

of what size who could tell

was arriving the following day

Now preparations for a challenge ahead vary in personal choice,

And who should say of another man’s way

Can any soul sound his voice?

For the pulse of the ocean played a different beat to those that slumbered that night

Some were serene,

others frantically dreamed,

most tossed and turned ‘til first light.

Dawn revealed an almighty sea,

Of one like never before,

For some she was a temptress,

For some a banchong whore.

From ‘Angas’ to the ‘Shine’,

And all the bays between;

For each man and his indicator,

The sight remains unseen.

This beast of a sea disfigured the shore,

It pounded the rocky heads!

Now decisions take time,

And for many that’s fine,

And some cowered back to their beds.

But there’s always a few who know what to do,

Where to go, and to whom to speak...

And a handful had gathered to hear the old man,

For none had done more time on the peak.

Ol’ Brocky had lived at the point,

For god knows how many years

And he had ridden with the best of ‘em,

Yet he was fightin’ back the tears

“To this task I am no equal,

Yet to the edge I’ve had my trips.

And as all of you know, when it comes you must go,

Or the seas bitterness will remain on ya lips.

I’ve tasted her many flavours,

I’ve seen her in every light;

But this battle is yours my brothers,

And to the ‘button’ you must take the fight.”

A few of the men shuffled to and fro,

Some glanced around at their feet,

“Her morning sickness is over,” he said,

“It’s time for you to meet.

But one thing you must know

before you go confronting such a test;

Wave selection is critical boys,

So paddle for only the best!”

.....T’was the wild man from down Yamba’s way,

That broke the ol man’s spell;

“I’ve waited all my bloody life to challenge such a swell!

I’ll ‘ave a crack at anything,

Just you watch me ‘ave my fun.

An abit o’ advice if yas was thinkin’ twice -

Out there you need a gun!”

Well, Baddy glanced around ,

To see who was in for a show.

A couple o’ locals who knew the point thought they might ‘ave a go.

The Goldy boys looked doubtful,

Their boards were mighty thin......

“If ya think y’all catch one with those,” he scoffed;

“Ya gotta be bloody kiddin’.”...

And there were two big boards that lay away,

Of whose names he hadn’t seen;

And he met the gaze of two young lads; one solid, the other lean.

And over the rumble of another set,

He yelled, “Let class begin.....”

And he noticed that the one lad winked,

The other gave a nod ‘n grin.

Now, half the battle in such a sea,

Is getting out through the foam;

And for some they battled it bravely,

.....’til she turned their heads for home.

But the crowds of people, who lined the hill,

Excitement it did not lack;

For the sea ‘respects’ the patient,

And a handful had made it out back.

Now the worth of many a good surfer

Is in the number of waves that he gets;

Yet it is in the wisdom of the waterman,

That can read between the sets

For the nervous ones caught the first that came,

They were itchin’ for a ride;

But only a few sat out on the peak,

Waiting – for a change in tide.

Few words were exchanged, each deep in thought

It was Baddy who cleared the air;

And he turned to face the two young lads,

That sat to meet his stare.

“There’s a few locals ‘round ere you boys will meet,

An’ me you’ll get to know.

But it don’t get like this too much

So when it comes you must go.

Be sure to ride with style ‘n savvy,

This is no place for tricks.

I know you boys ain’t from round ‘ere

Cos’ i’m unfamiliar with ya sticks.”

“They’re from Hawa....” one began to say

But he stopped in his reply

For the horizon had taken on a different shape

And the sea had become one with the sky.

They started scratchin’ for the horizon

Each deciding where to wait

But Baddy’s experience had told him

Just to resign himself to fate.

He made it over the first two

On the third he got to his feet.....

But his strength in his paddle was lacking

And he knew that he was beat.

He was pitched from crest to trough

‘n it made the people wince

‘n he was washed up onto the beach

And his board ain’t been seen since.

But the two young lads paddled further out

They knew where they wanted to be

For back in the islands they’d heard from a friend

The existence of an outside bombie.

He’d told them of the line-ups

The right conditions were hard to find

“But if ya ever get it on,” he said.

“It’ll be sure to blow your mind.”

It was as they topped the tenth wave

That they knew they’d found their place;

And that the wave after the next one

Was the challenger they would face.

It was the biggest of the set,

T’was the ‘peaking’ of the swell

It’s line reached across the bay

.....It looked like heaven and hell!

It drew its water off the reef

But the two lads held their ground

And it wasn’t until it started to feather

That they turned their boards around

And paddling hard and paddling strong

They stroked into the peak

And a ‘roar’ could be heard as they got to their feet.....

Yet not a spectator was able to speak

They could be seen riding down the face

But were lost then they reached the trough

And by the ‘explosion’ of the white-water

It was assumed they were knocked off

Well moments passed

The anxiety grew

The tension hung in the air....

And it took some time for the mist to clear

To reveal the two lads.....

Still there!

They leant on their inside rails

Each responding to the cue

And crouching low, its energy drawn

Up in to a high line they flew

Well it’s “Mozart” that comes to mind when recalling the line

that they drew before i say more....

for they glided across that feathering wall...

like in a canyon does the great condor.

They seemed to know each others’ style

Criss-crossing with arcing cutbacks

And when one’d soul arch

The other ‘strokin’ the cat’

Their lines resembled rail-road tracks

They rode right outta sight

And still nobody spoke

And it was Baddy who broke the silence

..... “Who the fuck are those blokes?”

“From an island up north,” the old man replied

“Out off Moreton Bay.

I heard they grew up surfin’ outer banks

But where exactly it’s hard to say.

An’ I once ‘eard a rumour of an open lagoon that I believe gets bloody good

An’ there’s some long left only those boys have surfed

And they called it

The ‘Bay of Wood’.”

Little more is known, though much has been said.....

Of that day back in May

And the events have gone down in the archives...

And are still spoken of today

And should you ask the ‘ol man

Who still lives at the point

If he has any stories to tell

He’ll recall the time

The ‘Bribie Boys’ drew the line

On that memorable

‘Big Mothers’ Day Swell’!!

Jack Roberton. 2000

Latest Name Guru Youtube videos....!

With the upcoming US presidential elections, I thought it only fair to record Barack and Mitt for properity. Ditto, Jodie, Ryan, and some minor debacles in the creation of Paul....

I hope you enjoy them, and

splendid.

DH

Barack

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AhPBcJfR2o

Mitt

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MDg8oyg3u0

and Jodie for good measure...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cEkY25ax9w


love love love

hocko

Why are we here?

Check out my new worldwide $15 marketing campaign....

Found the following poem/essay/commentary in an old file from 2001......

The Modern World.

Shares

Superannuation

Health insurance

Car insurance

House insurance

Boat insurance

Investment portfolios

Maximum output

Maximum time utilisation

Personal assessment

Economic rationalisation

Best mobile phone deal

Best diet

Low fat mobile phone

High returns

No time wasting

The right décor

The right garden

The right pet

The right way to behave

The right way to order a meal

The right way to drive

The right way to think

The right way to have sex

The right way to urinate

The right milk

The right deodorant

The right shampoo

The right look

The right supermarket

The right workout

Personal goals

Career aspirations

Good foundations

Disenfranchised breakfast cereal

Money money money

Quick quick quick

No wasted opportunity

The right holiday

Hurry; got it; smile for the camera and clench buttocks- CLICK, yes!!

Welcome to the west.

The end.

www.vividpublishing.com.au/shark



Another market day, life, death, blindness, greatness, etc



 Hello ladies and gentlemen,

And welcome to another segment from the markets, which have been unaffected despite the turmoil in Greece and Europe. Indeed, not much has changed. Aside, of course, from the wonderful blend of weirdos that show up at my stall, here at the Eumundi markets. 'Why shouldn't I call my son Clint?', the book, is the reason we're here today, and fine bunch we're confronted with.
On the right, from left to right, we have, Katie, Linda, Sandra, Kyle (the name of the facial expression given to a man who has just been kicked in the nuts), Vanitta, Jane and Warren ( looking away, and i dont blame him.)
According to the book, and the Name Guru app.....

Warren: As a variety of ferret, Warren is pure white in colour when he is clean but, generally, he's a dull shitty brown, he smells odd and he bites. 

 A quick family message now. My cousin, Dani, is married to a crazy South African (when are they not?) called Pook. He goes bike riding, (and in this case, the kind of bike riding where you leap off rocks, fall 20 metres and hope that the top of the gum tree you're falling into will catch you) with the bloke on the right, whose name is Pat. To be honest, he doesnt look like a 'Pat'. His partner Sue, arrived on almost a record day for 'Sue'. i met at least 8 of them. Maybe more. Indeed, is it the most common name in Austrlia for girls over the age of 25? Anyway, it was lovely to 

Yep. Me hard at work.....

The girls, from left to right, Pam, Meril, Elaine, Gail, Lisa, Mel, Kate, Kim, Leisa and another Lisa, there at the end. No, they weren't there in a group, although they kind of look like they should be. No, none of them bought a book, i just like the photo.....

There were a couple of photos I never took, or rather didn't think to take, but I'd like to tell you the story, in case  you're having a day that you think isn't that much fun.... About two weeks ago, the first week of May, give or take, I was at my stall dealing with a stack of people in front of me, when two girls arrived, Phoebe and Fiona. Being totally blind, Fi held Phoebe's arm tight and they stayed at my stall for ages. Laughing bloody hard. I mean, both girls weren't shy, and after two years at the markets, nearly, only a few times can I recall the volume of laughter being similar. Phoebe could barely read aloud her name theory.....

Pheobe: Her father is certifiably insane, which explains why Phoebe is as complicated as she is. So it's not all her fault, classically speaking, but Phoebe is pretty cool. Keep and eye on her if you like, but she'll be fine.

Bloody funny. Likewise, both of them utterly killed themselves with laughter at Fiona's description.

Fi: "Get out of my way!" she barks, heading for the bar/party/car keys/front of the queue/fridge/bedroom/spa/diving platform/dance floor/anything.

After recovering somewhat, she tilts her head in my direction, people and noise all around us and says, "Yeah! I'm in AA, too!"

Evidently, she just had her hair done, which is why she liked Fiona....

Fiona:There are no in-betweens with Fiona. Either she's plain and a bit dull, or she is incredibly sexy, ambitious, charasmatic and occasionally stressed. Regardless of which one she is, however, Fiona would go to the hairdresser every day if she could. Outside her bad days - of which there are at least five every week - she's surprisingly chilled out.

The following market day, Wendy and Michael ( ???I think...) arrived at my stall and Wendy was in raptures from start to finish. She couldn't believe her name theory, and how hilariously accurate it was....

Wendy: Like a shower that seems to have a personality all to itself, Wendy is scattered, lively and occasionally slightly awkward.

Her and Michael (catholic school boy........if it was Michael....my memory is a little vague here, and I cant find my notes for the day..) stayed for a while, checked out a stack of names and left. they didn't buy a book and that was okay. But, having thought about, Wendy suddenly appeared through some people back at my stall ten minutes or so later, determined to take one away.

"We're having drinks later with a friend of ours who has terminal cancer. She's got a great sense of humour and will love this book," Wendy said.

The ladies name is Peta, and apparently it is melanoma. I asked Wendy how Peta was coping, how she was dealing with the notion that it was all about to come to some kind of 'end', and she smiled. She said she was great, and dealing with it brilliantly.

These are the moments I love the most - knowing that the book is out there making people laugh hard.

And for the record....

Peta: All of us have issues of some variety and Peta's stem from having to repeatedly prove her feminity to the world. Not that she gives a shit, really, but the result is a tough and independent hombre.

Amen to that. And don't forget the sunscreen.

Love hock xx

I'll see you streaming live on air at noosacommunityradio.org, Mondays 4pm East Australia time....