It's impossible to capture a whole life in a single book or film. I imagine realistic attempts at capturing a life would be akin the Borges story where a map of the world was as large as the world. I was thinking about this when watching Werner Herzog's Queen of the Desert. Yet, I could … Continue reading Review: Queen of the Desert
All the life left
The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one. - Emily Bronte I love this time of year; especially the long afternoons of mellow golden light, well at least on those days when it isn't raining or threatening to. While the sun is shining it's … Continue reading All the life left
Under a spell
There is a final sentence in one of Tim Winton's short stories in his intertwined anthology The Turning that winded me with its beauty, poise and connectedness to what had gone before. I can't remember the story exactly, it was one of those grim seaside slices of life he is an expert at crafting, but … Continue reading Under a spell
unManley Hopkins
Gerard Manley Hopkins was an innovative and scholarly poet, if mostly unpublished in his lifetime. His unquiet poems, with their vivid descriptions in sprung rhythm still resonate with me. As an individual, he was a depressive, diminutive and devout man, out of sync with his world. Thus, he remains somehow familiar, and supremely current, except … Continue reading unManley Hopkins
Writers: born this way?
A FB writing group I'm in posed a question about whether writers are born or made. It garnered many, many enthusiastic responses. Most members asserted writers are born, or are somehow a combination of both born and made. You may not be surprised to find I have a problem with this. Otherwise I wouldn't be … Continue reading Writers: born this way?
Not imagining war
I am a new student of German Longsword. It's been mentioned before in dispatches, but it's a bit like boxing, or dancing. Cuts and parries (movements) are in response to those of your sparring partner and vice versa. Thus, sometimes sword fighting is a waltz, other times it is jazz ballet. But since English is … Continue reading Not imagining war
Review: Bec went a viking
The word Viking was a verb. Norse people didn't call themselves Vikings, they did it - they went out and traded and raided. I was reminded of that when I too went a viking to recover some knowledge from Melbourne Museum's new, temporary exhibit Vikings: Beyond the Legend. While there, as it was the opening … Continue reading Review: Bec went a viking
Elsewhere: a dream
Melbourne's central business district is served by the City Loop, a ring of (mostly) underground rail lines and their stations. The iconic station, the one on the postcards, is that of Flinders Street, because of its classic facade, the clocks, and its steps. Around the corner, Southern Cross Station serves both the city, and trains … Continue reading Elsewhere: a dream
Rewatch: The Day After Tomorrow
And now for something completely different, at least compared to recent posts here. Like the people who watch hash tagged programs such as Married At First Sight (#MAFS), I too can have thoughts about what I watch and then list them for people to mock, I mean enjoy. Thusly, I present twenty-seven and a bit … Continue reading Rewatch: The Day After Tomorrow
They call it Moomba
I'm not from Melbourne, not even from Victoria. All I knew about the Moomba Festival was from television coverage of the Bird Man Rally each year where people attempt to fly cardboard contraptions by jumping off a pontoon into the Yarra River for charity. Except for the charity, I never got it. There's a party, … Continue reading They call it Moomba
Writing Bec 