Hollowed out, I am scraped clean with a steel spoon, seeds and pulpy excess in jars and these little monsters, sitting neatly in a row. Here: tentacles and spongy parts, crocodile eyes and a soft belly. There: a gelatinous membrane covers writhing organs and a quiet, beating heart. I learn anew each time: that… Continue reading Muse
Halcyon days
These frosty June nights are biting. They numb my fingers and turn my lips blue. I drink mug after mug of hot water, wrap myself in shawls and scarves and sit at my desk with a heat pack slid under my thighs, trying to ward off the inertia that comes from icy skin and viscid… Continue reading Halcyon days
Deluge
My parents called me yesterday from Montreal. Various stems of the family grapevine had covered the distance before I could bring myself to do so and let them know about the second burglary: that hefty gobbet of muck spattering up over the top of all my other troubles. I miss them both, and perhaps it… Continue reading Deluge
For posterity’s sake
I struggled a lot this year. I worked really hard and have come so close ? if not crossed over ??to burnout on a number of occasions. I have been depressed and exhausted, anxious and upset more than is healthy, and it?s possible I have been this way for longer than I am comfortable acknowledging… Continue reading For posterity’s sake
In pursuit of a political argument for exercise
I?ve been a bit low lately. I?ve had knee problems since the half-marathon and for a few weeks I didn?t run at all. Even my bicycle seemed to be constantly in for repair, which meant hideous train rides to and from work every day. I got sick. Then I got sick again. The Melbourne Writers… Continue reading In pursuit of a political argument for exercise
On offense
1. At the 2012 Sydney Writers? Festival, at the Overland panel on the Tent Embassy, a woman in the front row put her hand up to make a comment. She understood Indigenous people were angry, she said. She understood that horrible things had happened. But she felt personally offended by what she perceived to be… Continue reading On offense
One foot in front of the other
I used to hate running. I hated it like I hated mornings, or sitting down to start an essay. The threat of dawn invoked dread. Impending deadlines made me want to curl up on myself, clutch at my knees, like a caterpillar being poked in the belly. And putting on my running shoes, stepping out… Continue reading One foot in front of the other
Addendum
Sometimes the water gets so muddy it?s impossible to see through the swirling dirt and debris looms dark and sudden though the murk. Sometimes you have to wait for the silt to settle to clear your head. For what it?s worth: Sexism is not simply reducible to the prejudice of individuals. Individual misogyny is not… Continue reading Addendum
Pocket holes
We flew the budget airline. My father blithely strolled through customs, waving cheerfully at the guards who waved cheerfully back, took our fingerprints but asked us almost nothing. When we checked in at the hotel, he started pulling half-open packets of biscuits, chocolate, candy, piles of muesli bars?even a chicken wing?out of his bag. ?In… Continue reading Pocket holes
7:15
A golden autumn morning breaks through leafless branches. The chainlink fences that flank the railway tracks gleam as the sun rises behind them. The footpaths wear mantles of brown and red leaves. My fingers are cold and only seem to get colder as I type. I piece together a couple of paragraphs from the scraps… Continue reading 7:15