A Little Piece

Ellen (10m)

2010-05-04T20:25:00.000+08:00

Ellen arrived in the nude
She squaked and she screamed
and she pooed
Now she likes talking
But continues her squaking
And the tounges of my shoes have been chewed

Fred & George

2010-05-04T20:18:00.001+08:00

Fred likes to be in the action
George, to practice protraction
But put them together
it's all the more better
They're brothers that like a distraction

Semiotics & Physick

2009-10-04T13:08:00.000+08:00

From the Wiki page on semiotics.
Nor is there any thing to be relied upon in Physick,^[3] but an exact knowledge of medicinal physiology (founded on observation, not principles), semiotics, method of curing, and tried (not excogitated,^[4]not commanding) medicines.
—Locke, 1823/1963, 4.21.4, p. 175

Sleepy day

2009-09-08T22:18:00.000+08:00

E wouldn't settle in her bed, so I walked about the house with her. We yawned to each other. We wriggled into a more comfortable position. Bright afternoon sun came in through the window and worked it's magic. We fell asleep on the ground, we fell asleep in the chair, we fell asleep at the table, we fell asleep at the computer, we fell asleep listening to the radio. Then, when there was no other place to fall, we fell into our beds, our consciences clear.

Father's Day

2009-09-06T11:40:00.000+08:00

Cloud Watching

2009-09-02T22:27:00.000+08:00

Timelapse - Los Angeles Wildfire from Dan Blank on Vimeo.

Hutton Wines

2009-09-01T12:02:00.001+08:00

My mate Mike's winery. Their Shiraz recently scored 95 from Halliday.

I love the Cabernet and Chardonnay.

www.huttonwines.com

Bullet in the Brain

2009-08-31T22:03:00.000+08:00

Reading this at the moment.

Particularly like "Bullet in the Brain" which you can listen to via
the New Yorker Fiction Podcast.

Alien, Predator ... Alien vs Predator

2009-08-30T17:17:00.001+08:00

I got a hold of a triple DVD set of Alien, Predator and Alien vs. Predator a couple of weeks ago. It was an impulse buy while EJ and I walked around a department store trying to agree on when was a good time to sleep.
"Hey, I'm older, you'll get tired first ..." (YAWN).

I've been using the opportunity afforded to me by my flu and recent fatherhood to re-watch these classic movies. EJ likes them too. With the volume control in one hand, dummy nearby, I can rock her to sleep on A's breast-feeding chair while we watch.

Predator is the ultimate boy scout, he comes prepared. Alien is a naturally existing life-form that has ideas of it's own and is completely uncontrollable.

The irony is not lost on EJ who at random points in the film will cry out like alien, necessitating me to PAUSE, rock, apply dummy, cry back (in lullaby) before the movie can go on.

Alien and Predator remain awesome films, but I prefer the YouTube clip below to AVP.

Don't knock the breast feeding chair until you try it - without it there would be no movie at all.

The Drive Home

2009-08-29T12:27:00.001+08:00

A new beginning

2009-08-29T12:13:00.003+08:00

Okay. I've had the flu and it really floored me. Pig flu, Man flu - same dif.

But for the first time in ages I've not drunk any alcohol for a whole week. I've stepped off the treadmill for just long enough to have some thoughts, which included thoughts about connectedness.

"must join twitter" tick!

"I need to revamp this blog" tick!

madness: what writing a novel is really like

2008-03-11T20:12:00.005+09:00

Writing. It takes a lot of preparation and dedication to write a novel. Much more than I could have expected. It is like a wrestling match, and sometimes I feel the novel is on top of me. A big bloke in tight lycra - not good. Sometimes I've got him in a tight thumb hold, begging for mercy. Each day is a little different. The focus that my day job requires can make the wrestling match harder, but it also gives me a lot of confidence and drive to pump out words. Medicine is a constant uphill struggle against negative emotions. You are hurting people to make them better, giving all your energy against negative feelings. Steeling yourself against the instinct to stop because it hurts too much. That's like the feeling of writing murders into a novel, you don't want to kill off these characters, but you know it has got to be done. Editing is a bit like that too; or like cleaning up a wound: you're cutting out the dead bits so the wound can heal.

So basically writing a novel is the mental equivalent of cutting the dead bits out of a 120kg fat bloke in lycra who's got you in a body press.

Thank fuck for yoga.

Novel advice that's short and nice

2008-02-28T17:11:00.004+09:00

There are an overwhelming number of books and sites out there that try to get you writing a novel - not all great. Here's one that is succinct and enjoyable to read. Advice on Novel Writing

most fun book ever, will get you noveling

2008-02-18T20:28:00.001+09:00

No Plot? No Problem! by Chris Baty

This guy started a novel writing marathon that this year had 96,000 entrants. Troops in Iraq were even writing novels. Check out the moving story at:
In the lines of fire, Boston Globe

Complexity - The street as platform

2008-02-17T17:17:00.005+09:00

This article describes complexity brilliantly. I arrived at the html via William Gibson's blog (author of Neuromancer and more recently Spook Country).

The street as platform

I hope they go home with the write baby

2008-02-17T12:41:00.004+09:00

A nice illustration of the immediacy with which you register words. Notice how much you take in; how the words help create the story in your mind?

Ditches

2008-02-16T11:43:00.000+09:00

I writing my novel by ditches. A ditch is usually about 300 to 1800 words long and is a continuous piece of a novel. It deals with either an idea, or a single scene in novel time. These ditches stand alone and can be weeded out as a whole, or, should they show promise, are short enough to be revised without giving you a brain-strain.
I call them ditches in reference to the feeling that I've finally run out of ideas. It's like I am always having a last ditch effort against a continuous and momentous feeling of failing.
This is a funny paradox, because I actually think that I am winning. Although I don't want to admit it yet for fear of sounding delusional.

Clive James interviewed about his works in progress

2008-02-16T07:49:00.001+09:00

Clive James talks about his works in progress with the NYT Book Review blog - Paper Cuts.
Read the interview

Land and Sea

2007-08-13T18:19:00.000+08:00

There is enough, there is enough.
There's enough beat to eat up the road.
To let the wheels spin again and again and again around and around the sound of the wheels in a constant ripping of the road a single constant pound of rubber on bitumen.
The scrub we pass on this hot stretch is melting into a single grey, window high blur on the sideway. I hear the cruel rasp of the engine in the heat, feel the hot wind through the vents. It's dog with his head out the window, snout to the wind, weather. And the music is blues and country and the state of being is dry. Dry and slow is all you can be, dry and slow; unless you are powered by gasoline, when you are hot and fast.

The sea. Ahh, she cradles me.. i float.
I am an earthly floating being.
I belong.
I am swallowed.
I am whole, taken in, in the water.
I am a lightened being in the ocean.

Living with Expression

2007-07-03T12:11:00.000+08:00

I am suffering from a terrible disease: Expression. It is the worst of diseases and the best of diseases. No one can understand the depths of a truly serrious Expression. Everything around you seems like a cloud of uncertainty. Nothing is easy, nothing is simple. Everything wants an analogy, a metaphor for itself. Everything needs a pun. Everything serious is hilarious and the sufferer is prone to outbursts of giggling that he or she is the only one capable of understanding. Everything sublime is prone to bring about a spontaneous tear. Expression is lonely, it is isolating. Expression makes an otherwise simple world complicated. It leads to wasting of the body and, a sort of over thought induced numbing of the brain.

Expression is deadly, it is a kind of obsession of thoughts. Everything is something else, everything is worthy of attention, everything is everything and nothing is nothing. When nothing is nothing it is very hard to throw out things and to stop staring at something. Expression is paralyzing.

The Arrival of Claudius Beef

2007-06-20T16:25:00.000+08:00

Claudius Beef was delivered today. He moved quickly to the truck door as it opened, but paused before going down the ramp. He could smell the wet grass and the cattle out there but wasn't going to be tricked again. The bumpy ride in that noisy cage had him rattled.

'Next time they won't load me so easily' he said, in the quiet way of a bull.

He is testy as bulls often are. He steps out quickly, half expecting the shouts of people and the flurry of activity when they try to push him where he doesn't want to go - and he will fight (they don't doubt it).

Down the ramp now and through the narrow race and out into...

Ahh. Merciful spacious pen and the soft turf underfoot. But wait, he can hardly believe it, there is another open gate and beyond it open pasture and the distinctive smell of cows.

He won't rush. It would be unseemly to rush.

He is Claudius Beef, he rushes for no-one. So he saunters, briskly, toward his open gate.

Chemotherapy

2007-04-19T14:41:00.000+08:00

"Give him another round of chemo";
the physician peers out the window.
Silent sheets hang from the craggy frame they hide:
Invisible grey flesh,
silent tears of resignation.
A long cold winter
Longer and colder is made.
The physician playing god,
so rarely changes the outcome,
but so easily the weather.

'Feel the dark side Luke'

2007-02-19T21:26:00.000+09:00

Two trees in Tamworth, NSW who love Star Wars

2006-11-19T20:01:00.000+08:00

Effortful malingering is all this broken soul is capable of.
He is a shadow, a little tissue paper man with empty spaces all through him.
He wonders: who is the keeper of the birds who sends a thousand pecking spears after me;
every day.

a fishing we will go

2006-09-22T22:39:00.000+08:00

We're sailing blue
And whistling tunes,
Upon our lips
We float and dip,
The tide is high
Oh me oh my
A fishing we will go

To catch the catch!
Oh what a fish!
I feel it now
I pull and lift,
From the water
a great old Groper
A fishing we will go

And here a school
of silver herring
by and by they slip
and steering
down and up and
side to side
A fishing we will go

Look by the rocks
on sandy floor,
The flat-head waits
for our sweet bait,
And with a snatch
he grabs our line
A fishing we will go

Under sea
beneath the waves
Lurking lowly
in his cave
Lobster hides
his bead black eyes
A fishing we will go

Sleightly hidden
with white sand
A monster with a
gammy hand
Squid! He's
sucking off our bait!
A fishing we will go

And when the dark
has come at last
And sky's gold
twighlight has been cast
And all the fish
come out to feast
A fishing we will go

Until a time
our stomachs' cry
"Cook up these fish
in battered fry
and serve them hot
with beer and fries"
A fishing we will go

Sharing

2006-09-08T13:19:00.000+08:00

Pet Therapy

2006-09-08T07:33:00.000+08:00

a short story I have written about depression, love, cats and dogs.

Click on Pet Therapy in the links box --->

Moody Blue

2006-09-08T07:29:00.000+08:00

Who now is he with long a face,
Lurking, stooping around my place,
A Goldilocks, he steals my chair,
And to look at my bed, I know he's been there.

I knew him once but now he's gone,
My angel replaced this blue forlorn,
I will remember him, from time to time
But no longer does he pull the line
that kept me low, and to the ground,
My angels hold me now he's gone.

Mint Leaves

2006-09-06T13:01:00.000+08:00

Brewing in a cup
Mint leaves swirl in the hot currents
Falling like snow flakes

Doodle from a conversation about the meaning of life

2005-11-22T22:35:00.000+08:00

I've tried for so long

2005-11-07T20:35:00.000+08:00

When you wake,
I'll be there
Holding you

I'm gonna reach out
my arms for you

I'm gonna lift you up
Higher

Show you the world
And all that is good

'Cause I've tried
So long
I've been right,
But I've also been wrong

Tea-Tree Lake

2005-10-21T23:15:00.000+08:00

Autodefenestration

2005-10-21T07:38:00.000+08:00

such a word it is
autodefenestration
dominates haiku

Ahh Girls

2005-10-12T21:16:00.000+08:00

Energetic and prophetic
Lythe smiles and beguiling curls
lifted chin and dreamy smells,
oooh girls

Last night

2005-10-10T20:10:00.000+08:00

Last night I dreamed I was an opera singer,
Thrust on stage.
I knew the tune to sing,
And every time I opened my mouth a roar of pure sound rushed out.
But there was no time to practice
I had to read the words off a sheet of paper,
but I was good anyway.
What a funny dream.

at the farm

2005-10-02T21:59:00.000+08:00

We spent the weekend at the farm,
My wife and I
She jig-saw puzzled,
I walked.
She listened, I talked

Then I listened while she talked.
Together we were alone.

But in the end for all our apartness,
we felt together again.

[Photo courtesy of J. Lee]

Spider Orchid

2005-09-29T20:52:00.000+08:00

Spider Orchid Wildflower, Cape Naturaliste, Western Australia

He sat

2005-09-27T20:17:00.000+08:00

He sat bewrestled
unsure uncertain but loved
he sat just fishing

Tea

2005-09-25T17:16:00.000+08:00

Tea warms and calms. The kettle boiled, the familiar cup found in the cupboard. A careful measure of leaves. The grumbling subterranean burble of the water boiling and the light rivulet giggle of the pour. Then comes the aroma that reminds of the tropical place where the leaves were grown, and of knarled black hands that stripped these dessicated leaves. He brings the cup slowly to his lips and drinks carefully, calm and warm.

Longing for Far Away

2005-09-25T12:17:00.000+08:00

Today I long to be at my favorite place in Western Australia. We have a tin shed there by the sea, from where we can hear the huge waves bursting on the sand. We can watch the surging dangerous sea and fish for skippy, flathead and the elusive groper. Ah heaven. I wrote these Haiku poems to take me there.

We three enjoy beer
Buffeted by the sea breeze
Bathed in the sunset

----

Beyond our far rock
Gelid winds marshal and champ
Upon our wee shed