Sunday 30 September 2012

Great Sentence of the Week #8

Again - to put it into context - I've included multiple sentences. They come from a beautiful article by William McInnes in today's Sunday Magazine - a tribute to his late wife Sarah Watts. If you've ever owned dogs, or are a dog person, I think you'll relate.

Ray and Delilah are our two dogs. Kelpies. Silly as wheels and lovely beyond all description.

Thursday 27 September 2012

A foray into verse

I'm not a poet, though I sometimes wish I was. Anyway, despite this limitation, something I saw and heard - and photographed - at Taronga Zoo yesterday sent me into free verse.

I apologise in advance....


I listen to them;
children whooping and laughing and making jokes about the funny monkey.
Lying on his back,
sleeping in the sun
making funny grandfather faces.
They laugh like they might burst.
It strikes me as disrespectful.
I watch him;
hard-wired super computer in a hair-triggered killing, fighting, fuck machine.
He swaggers away,
huge testicles swaying
like ripe black avocadoes.
He could tear a child in half.
There should be more respect.

Monday 17 September 2012

Great Sentence of the Week #7

Your worst enemy, he reflected, was your own nervous system. At any moment the tension inside you was liable to translate itself into some visible symptom. Nineteen eighty-four (Orwell).

Wednesday 12 September 2012

What Price a Moment?

For Mark Tredinnick...

I find myself in a moment; sitting and staring up through a v-shaped vista – between the grey, lichen marked trunks of Bangalow Palms – and I notice how the sun plays a different tune on each species of plant: delicate silver and copper piping on the Casuarina needles, or thick citric screaming on the Coachwood leaves. A Noisy Miner twists and flutters on glowing white feathers, then perches sideways on the crumbling bark of a Sydney Peppermint to swallow his catch. There’s an Angophora in the far distance; just a piece of a tree; a warty salmon branch twisting in an S-shape, before moiling towards the sky. A Currawong calls. The Sweet Pittosporum is thick with cream blossoms. Tree Fern fronds wave in a gentle northerly breeze.

I’ve been fortunate this week. In less than three days I’ve generated more income in my own business than I would have in two weeks as an employee. If my calculations are right, there’s a lot more to come. It feels like a blessing. Except now the Internet is down. Again. And for a moment, I can’t earn any of that promised income. A frustrating moment. I leave my little office and go outside for some air. Let my computer re-boot – and myself. Breathe. And I sit out in the shade and I listen to the colours of the world. It’s only for a moment, but it feels a lot more valuable.

Friday 7 September 2012

The eight pee-em blues

It's been a long day, but a satisfying one. Started out wondering what the day might bring, and just finished a few minutes ago - at 8pm. A thirteen hour ride - from a single office chair.

It's been a day thick with those winds I hate - the westerlies - roaring and setting the world on edge. Setting me on edge. It's been a day where the limitations of our communication networks seemed determined to drive me spare. Internet lock-outs and those sub-continental sales calls. It's been a day of pouring through Budget Papers and Ministerial Media Releases - sorting out the content from the spin. It's been a day of opportunity - embarking on a dual-writing project with one of this country's most unique - and as yet undiscovered - writers. It's been a big kind of day. I hope yours was equally satisfying - if slightly less taxing.

Now, your time is your own. Enjoy a beer or a glass of wine. Play with your kids. Make love to someone special. I plan to do none of the above. Too tired. Too lazy. And the wind is still blowing too hard out there. Or maybe it's just the eight pee-em blues.