This is not the blog I was planning to write today. But it’s the one that’s calling me like a howling wolf to the pack of my thoughts. Would you ignore that?
I’m always drawn into considering each word carefully, of searching for the right phrase – novel, precise, colourful if possible – of editing myself as I write. I end up with the final product, not a draft. But today, I’m going to gag my inner censor and just bang it down, for better or worse. This is as close as I get to spontaneous.
I’m disturbed at the moment. I’m sick of everything familiar. So sick, that I actually feel physically ill. I’ve had a slight headache for a couple of days, and a bit of an upset stomach. More than that, there’s a vague dis-ease about me and that vagueness is unsettling…something is just not right. Continue reading Boomtown Lament
It can get dispiriting blogging away without eliciting much feedback much of the time, although I am aware this is the nature of topically eclectic blogs. I can see the readership stats and RSS feeds building up, so I know there’s an audience out there returning regularly (masochists, or folk of fine taste? I’ll take the latter!) and gathering in number. There’s some comfort in that.
Nevertheless, “officially” being acknowleged by peers is affirming and motivating – and I am pleased to report that one of my posts from last year, Death By Hyperbole, has been nominated as one of the top 40 Australian blog posts of 2007. Continue reading Boomtown Rap Post Makes Aussie Top 40
Like most writers, I’m hung up on lexical precision – as I wrack my brain for the perfect word or phrase, you can almost hear the cerebral cogs crunching and grinding (a bit like an under-RAMed computer struggling with heavy multi-tasking). Most of us ain’t David Maloufs or Les Murrays. The right word comes hard… if it comes at all.
Not so when I read about Nicole Kidman’s pregnancy (yeah, ok…don’t claim you never succumb to reading the goss crap) and got to the part about her parents having been midwives to sister Antonia and planning to do the double with Nic.
Daddy might be a doctor and mummy a nurse, but what do you say about the idea of them lodged betwixt the stirrups staring into Nic’s works as she heaves and hos?
I’ll tell ya what ya say –