Dead People Don't Make Jam

Davis and I, the bald bloke in the sarong and that funny looking Asian dyke, were still a mystery to the locals but at least they'd given up gawking and silently guessing. ';The Track'Come and lie down next to me on my bed. Place your head on the pillow so we can talk in confidence. Or should I say, lie with me and just listen let me talk with impunity. ';Pillow Talk'It is hard to believe that I might be moving away from here. From all of this. Not just to another suburb. Not even another country. But to another planet, never to return. I have a month to decide. ';Rocket Science'The hunter only came back one more time. It was winter and he had a pair of rabbit skin gloves for Kelvin. Since the night of the stew and the jam and the sex with his cousin, life had got worse. ';Dead People Don't Make Jam'In his unique and punchy style, Sean Crawley takes the reader from the bush to the coast, riding on city trains, and into the suburban lives of ordinary Australian families. There are forty-nine stories to push, pull and twist you, to make you laugh and cry, in all capturing the essence of life in our crazy, hectic and eclectic world.