BIBLIOPHILIA: THE STRUGGLE IS REAL

  1. The only places to purchase new books in Karratha are K-Mart and the airport. Karratha does not have a dedicated book store.
  2. The actual best bookstore in Karratha is the Tip Shop, which has an extensive collection of thrown-out books of variable quality for ten cents each.
  3. Even so, it’s hardly a bloody Mecca as far as book buying goes.
  4. Let’s not even talk about graphic novels.
  5. Luscious, the kids, and I spent the first week of these school holidays with our adult kids in Toodyay.
  6. We spent about half a day in Perth and a similar amount of time in Fremantle.
  7. Book stores.
  8. Luscious is 5ft 0 tall.

 

Book stack

 

EINS, ZWEI, DREI, ALLE

scum

You cannot reach me now, no matter how you try
Goodbye, cruel world, it’s over, walk on by
 
Sitting in a bunker here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come
In perfect isolation here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come
 
Waiting to cut out the deadwood
Waiting to clean up the city
Waiting to follow the worms
 
Waiting to put on a black shirt
Waiting to weed out the weaklings
Waiting to smash in their windows and kick in their doors
 
Waiting for the final solution to strengthen the strain
Waiting to follow the worms
 
Waiting to turn on the showers and fire the ovens
Waiting for the queers and the coons and the reds and the Jews
Waiting to follow the worms
 
Would you like to see Britannia rule again, my friend?
All you have to do is follow the worms
 
Would you like to send our coloured cousins home again, my friend?
All you need to do is follow the worms.
 
— ‘Waiting for the Worms’, Pink Floyd

ON THE SUBJECT OF REAL LIFE……

Writing remains dead. Teaching eats everything; I spend most of my spare time creating resources, marking, or just plain dealing with the steepness of the learning curve that comes from being out of a game for twenty-five years. There’s a writing group in town: Luscious and I went to it a few times, but haven’t been in something like 9 months. We’re talking about going back, just to get in touch with the joy of words. Watch this space. Or, if you care about the outcome, maybe don’t…

Weight loss has tapered off in a major way. See above for the reasons why. I’m still under 100kgs, which is a good thing, and trying to fit workouts into the gaps. Call it maintenance rather than loss, perhaps. I have still lost centimetres, which is positive, and my chest has gained half a centimetre of muscle where there was once only fat. It’s a long haul. I’m still hauling.

The Lego remains in the cupboard. Time, community, opportunity to display are all lacking. But Luscious and I have just swapped offices because reasons, and mine now has a Great Big Giant Table ™, so possiblymaybeperhaps I’ll have a chance to get it all out and noodle around with some pieces just for fun. We’ll see.

Life decisions have been decisioned. We like it here. There are opportunities for us. We’ll be staying for at least another three years.

Have I missed anything?

TEACHING DON’T MEAN NUTHIN’ IF YOU AIN’T MELTING HEADS

So, yeah, my life may have come to a screaming halt, but I’m slowly getting to grips with this teaching gig, and no matter how hard a day gets, it still doesn’t chew on my soul the way The Job That Soured ended up doing. Plus, of course, my style of teaching English doooooeeeessss tend to involve a whole lot of sneaking in other lessons around the side……

Some days, of course, just like writing, you do something so beautiful that you wish you could bottle it. Yesterday was one of those days.

Continue reading “TEACHING DON’T MEAN NUTHIN’ IF YOU AIN’T MELTING HEADS”

AN AWARD NOMINATION, AND A SMALL SLICE OF HISTORY

First things first: The House of Jack’s Girls, a pleasant little thing published by Pseudopod back in October, has been nominated for the Australasian Horror Writers Association’s Australian Shadows Award. I’m up against a fair roster of talent, but it’s been a while since I’ve received even a nomination, so it’s nice to be listed.

shadows

Luckily for you, because Pseudopod is all internettily and stuff, you can both read it and listen to the svelte-larynxed Chloe Yates read it to you right here. Be warned: it’s a horror story, and it’s very much MA15+.

To add to the general joy and all-round bonhomie, Antipodean SF reaches 250 issues this month. The legendary Ion Newcombe has been toiling away for 21 years, consistently providing a voice for new writers and releasing wave after wave of quality flash fiction every damn month– he’s way overdue for all the major career awards in Australian SF, but what do I know?

To celebrate, issue 250 is a massive (relatively speaking) tome, with over 50 stories from some of the most familiar names in the Australian SF scene and the usual healthy dose of rising talent. I’ve got a story in amongst it all, along with many writers you’ll actually want to read.

Check it out.

NOT A RETURN. PROBABLY. POSSIBLY. NOT YET.

Not a WIP. Just some words that came along while Luscious was sleeping. I still don’t know if I can be bothered climbing onto the carousel again. No promises.

 

Antimony Lavage was quiet, and pale, and very well brought up.

She knew how to be polite, and respectful, and share, and care, and always, always be a perfect young lady around visitors. She knew how to wash her face, and brush her teeth, and tie her long, white hair in her prettiest black ribbon, and dress herself in her best black crinoline and black satin dress and black gloves and black bonnet. She knew how to make polite chitchat, and be seen and not heard, and amuse, and smile, and converse, and perform, and obey. She knew how to observe, and record, and dream, and make solemn promises, and in all things forever work to overcome the very real disadvantage of being no more or less than a six year old girl.

So when she determined to commit murder, Antimony Lavage knew exactly why, and how, and to what end.