This will hurt me...

Sandstone bricks. St George's Terrace, Battery Point. October 2012. It's Henry's birthday party today (although his birthday isn't actually until Tuesday), but Sylvia Plath insisted that I pass one this poem... A Birthday Present , Sylvia Plath What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful? It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it edges? I am sure it is unique, I am sure it is what I want. When I am quiet at my cooking I feel it looking, I feel it thinking 'Is this the one I am too appear for, Is this the elect one, the one with black eye-pits and a scar? Measuring the flour, cutting off the surplus, Adhering to rules, to rules, to rules. Is this the one for the annunciation? My god, what a laugh!' But it shimmers, it does not stop, and I think it wants me. I would not mind if it were bones, or a pearl button. I do not want much of a present, anyway, this year. After all I am alive only by accident. I would have killed m...

Just out the front. East Derwent Highway, Geilston Bay. March 2011. The photo shows late afternoon in Geilston as the sun makes a last hurrah before the shift back from Daylight Saving kicks us all in the guts. I enjoy Daylight Saving. There is something about arriving home from work with a little bit of sunshine that puts a spring in your step. Conversely, leaving home for work in the dark, and arriving home from work in the dark, can be a little demoralising. What’s been the point of the day if all you have to show for it are the fruits of wage slavery?