Posts Written OnAugust 2012

I used to fight with my mum like it was a life force. We would go hammer and tongs, I thought. But actually I would go hammer and tongs and she would wonder what exactly she had done wrong and I would wonder why she didn’t understand what she had done wrong but now I can’t remember what it was anyway. The first thing I thought of when I woke up each day was how she was going to do me wrong and how I could even the score. I wrote the tally on the inside of my eyelids and…

I was compelled to work on a love project by the most encouraging and delightful woman on earth, Bernadette Jiwa. The publication that will eventually become Bide Magazine had been milling around in my brain for years. When I was a little kid I created a newspaper and gave my brother a dollar to distribute it to all the people in the neighbourhood. I was lucky that my dad had a photocopier. My overheads were low. It would be fair to say that bloody good writing brings me more pleasure than almost anything else. (Yes, apart from that.) But I…

When I was 19, I was engaged to a man I had known for less time than it took the kettle to boil. We lived together in a tiny flat that backed against the train line and had a courtyard just big enough for the pair of metal seats we picked out of hard rubbish and sat on with our knees touching. I had a job I liked, working in an industry I thought would take years to crack. Every day I kissed my 20-year-old fiancee goodbye and hopped on the train with a newspaper and half a rockmelon and…

Yesterday my Pozible project ended. If you click through, you’ll see that an incredible amount was pledged. $3,851¬†worth of backing, well, me. The target was $6,000, so I didn’t quite get the project funded, but that doesn’t make the support demonstrated any less amazing. I wanted to offer my sincerest thanks to those 72 people who thought that what I wanted to achieve was worth putting actual dollars into. Especially Rose Wintergreen, Sam Quigley and Sarah Moran, who believed in my goal more than I did. As the project due to a close with no obvious sign that it would…

I sat down for a quiet breakfast on my own this morning, and was rather enjoying myself when a toffee-nosed woman in her 60s sat down at the next table. “WAITER!” she bellowed. “I WANT A GLASS OF WATER!” The waiter was a very nice young man, bordering on meek if I’m honest, and he rushed to bring her one. “UGH. I DRINK HEAPS OF WATER. GET ME A CARAFE.” I tried to helpfully explain to her that no one has asked for a carafe since the mid-90s, but she was busy admiring her eyebrows in a tiny gilded pocket…