Ellen (10m)

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

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

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

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

Cloud Watching

Timelapse - Los Angeles Wildfire from Dan Blank on Vimeo.

Hutton Wines

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

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

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

A new beginning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Land and Sea

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

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.