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
Writing
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
Lessons from kittens
My household volunteers for an animal rescue charity, fostering kittens and cats when possible. The organisation takes surrendered animals, and rescues kittens, cats, dogs and rabbits from death row shelters across Victoria. Fostering means preparing kittens and cats for permanent homes by getting them through medical assessments and treatments (including neutering). Fostering often entails ensuring … Continue reading Lessons from kittens
Patchwork heart
You won't be surprised if you learned I have a collector's tendency. A bit. Not in a massively life cramplingly problematic hoarding way, yet I do keep things. Maybe it's because stuff is comforting, like when I was a child. My room in one house was barely wider than my bed, in which was stuffed … Continue reading Patchwork heart
Am always and none
Thoughts arising like bubbles in lemonade upon reading about Anatta (anatman). I am not who I was, and yet I am, always. Who I am is not work I am paid to do - as it changes. Will this I stop when work slows like an unwound clock? Who I am is not who I … Continue reading Am always and none
Enheduanna Bot?
Welcome to my periodical rant about the world's first name author. Turn away now if you want to continue thinking it's a bloke... Part of my interest in archaeology stems from reading history and literary history. Time and again an individual 'unearths' or 'discovers' a rich literary, creative legacy related to our female cultural predecessors … Continue reading Enheduanna Bot?
Auto population
The password is saved. Sign in page. Password field auto populates. Not recognised. It doesn't announce "unrecognised". It is not. Not a thing. Nothing. Type in the combination of numbers, symbols and letters. S L O W L Y. A magical incantation breathed through hope. Wait. Capture this: I am not a bot. But I could … Continue reading Auto population
About nothing
Pages are blank today, (where school children should be writing) while across the world there's hell to pay (in bombed out cities, ghosted by cement dust). But I'm sat here imagining all the sparkly things I could say, but don't. I suppose this is a place holder for digital content. Requiring a headline and … Continue reading About nothing
Life outside the frame
Many would consider the small towns I lived near and grew up in boring. It was the 1980s and they lacked the services and excitement of the cities. But they didn't lack for character, nor characters. There was a woman who lived on the fringe of town (when I say town I mean one of … Continue reading Life outside the frame
Gestures towards immortality
We half remember the lyrics. We stumble through the steps, and tire too soon. And then grow still. We hum tunelessly when once we sang. And fade to a hush when the sound is turned low. We read until we lose the book, or our sight dims. And recite until voices become hoarse. Rest is … Continue reading Gestures towards immortality
Writing Bec 