December accepts its weaves of workers, casually industrious. Scumble of cloud over the slapped-up stadium could be rain. But the bee-lines return to more online paperwork: it pays. Badging protests against aloneness and bread-and-circus posters won’t last a week, forlorn imitators of glowing advertising inside cafes’ inset TVs. Railway heavies stand around a Myki freeloader, write down the same old story, touching in its way. The city’s towers stand anonymous as the man in the grey flannel suit. Peak performance non-stops, greenly indicates another day. It’s why railings shine, why orange teams are quick to repair a broken down escalator.
Friday, 2 December 2016
Thursday, 1 December 2016
December lowers the lights and retracts the curtain. Sounds of war invade the trailer, war only Americans can conduct, all technology and no humanity. They have the budget and the actors. We anticipate an experience we cannot name. These seats were made for people like us, willing to pay to escape the sun, an hour or two. We fit the description of consumer, even if we’re just tagging along. Aisle lights provide a sense of almost ritual. The feature’s retro-medieval, frolicking in New Zealand ravines and quarries. We exit into the bright eucalyptus light, analysing faithfulness to the original text.
Saturday, 26 November 2016
Garden Notes. Saturday 26th November 2016. Crush eggshells in the basil pots to deter snails. Find dead rat under ferns behind water tank, its belly alive with maggots: cat Obsidian’s work. Cut 150 cm lengths of branch for Banyule green waste bundle collection this Wednesday: four kinds of pruner, the long-arm cutter, secateurs, saw, and bare hands. Collect jacaranda seedpods from paths for propagation: first blue flowers appear. Snip pinot-coloured suckers from climbing roses. Transfer succulents into sun-and-shade positions, after weeding the rainy weather weeds. Clear gutters. Witness Eastern rosellas in the ramshackle wattle: rare sight in this hillside garden.