Weather (aros 11)

                                           Georgia USA snowed in.
                                           Queensland's disappeared under water.
                                           New Zealand has drought.
                                           Still raining in Fiji.
                                        
                                           Anyone getting what they want?

Big Bug (aros 10)

A bug walked into my bedroom last night as if he owned the place.
I crept out...
left him to it.

Forgiveness (aros 9)

She brings me chocolates and pleads forgiveness
this girl with the turkey laugh who kept me awake for two whole nights with her drunken antics.

A book worth talking about... Camping on the Faultline

Camping on the Faultline, a memoir by Marilyn Duckworth, is worth talking about primarily because of its resemblance to the celebrity gossip magazines we wouldn't be seen reading in public. I thought I might get an insight into the writing life of a well known and much lauded NZ author. Well, I suppose I did, of sorts.

A restless spirit, Duckworth claims she writes her best when she's away from home. That said, flitting between two countries, forty-nine houses, twelve schools, four husbands and many lovers, clearly contributed to her considerable writing output. This book, however, let me down. All I learnt was who, of the NZ literati, was in bed with whom throughout the flirtatious 50s, through the sexy 60s to the naughty 90s. They were all at it and Ms Duckworth holds nothing back.  They're all in there. All the writers we think of as being the core of the NZ literary scene of that period. I'm not going to drop names, but, Maurice Shadbolt is in there...  and Fleur Adcock running off to wed Barry Crump? Of course most of this was pre The Pill days and so inevitably multiple children ensued from the couplings of various combinations of spouses, lovers, mistresses and what have you. Too old to be considered hippies, they'd missed Bohemia by miles. So what drove them to leap from bed to bed, relationship to relationship? The word 'creativity' is tossed around and although there are references to several of Duckworth's books, there's no real insight into the creative process and nothing that significantly links the events of her hectic love life to that of her writing life. To be honest, I felt exhausted for her and not at all surprised that she needed to upsticks and leave, yet again, in order to concentrate on writing. Haven't we all felt that urge? However, after husband number four, I lost interest in these people. Ms Duckworth doesn't regret any of it, she says. And clearly, it worked for her.

Girl with the Turkey Laugh (aros 8)

Petite, toned body. So drunk she can hardly stand up. A laugh like a pregnant turkey. She has no idea what a mess she looks. Projecting coolness like... you know, like... ah shit...

Community Service (aros 7)

The siren goes. The waiter puts down his pad and takes off his apron. Two men running across the road, tearing off green supermarket shirts as they go. The schoolmaster rolls up on his bike. Here's the postman, the real estate agent,  the builder.  City folk, holiday-makers, stand and stare, open mouthed, as the fire engine emerges. This is community service.

Blue Cheese (aros 6)

 

                                                        




                                                      
                                               if the moon
                                               really was made of cheese

                                               it'd be blue

                                                        
                                               dark craters that smell of decay