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Friday, December 29, 2017

Christmas Eve - NYC

Let us go, you and I, let us go,
Out into the new york night to make angels in the snow. 
As the sounds of new york sirens stretch and growl along the streets, 
and the new york bricked buildings huddle tight against the cold, each to each.

We are not cold. As they who are outside grow cold. 
We sit in warmed faux-fur bean-bagged luxury, 
Thanks to Greg and Jenny’s generosity. 
They have given the most precious of all Christmas gifts - togetherness.

We are lucky. 

To the events of the year past: 
to the resurrection of broken water pumps, to the removal of carpal tunnel lumps, 
to on call nights and long haul days on the farm, to walks along coogee beach's early morning charm,
to the constant and steady deployment of expertise, to the simple action of continued life, to breathe.
to tired late night submissions at royal commissions, in the hope that we might have done something to help those silenced children, 
to mumsy’s knitted garments with loving patterns and for one of us, to the start of a masters long awaited, another step on that one’s road to greatness.

We are lucky.

Lucky because for all the grind over hard ground
We are in so many ways blessed 
what’s lost is nothing compared to what’s found, 
and all the death that ever was, 
sat next to life, 
could scarcely fill a cup.

We are lucky.

Love is more than a warmth to bask in, they say. It is a fierce and grave yearning, 
a reaching out, 
a losing and finding of the self in the paradise of another. 
This year I reached out and found myself 
in another’s paradise, 
my life
to be even more closely intertwined 
With hers when she becomes my wife.

I am lucky.

Lastly, to four legged friends not here 
to ruffle absent mindedly behind the ear, 
or to flop a greying snout down on one’s extended knee while exhaling audibly, exhausted. 
By what? By loving us too much? Or is it another tobleronic coma? 
No matter. He is missed. He is missed indeed, chant the congregation of Alan worshippers, although the doors of this apartment remain conspicuously unscratched 
and are likely thankful for his absence. 

But we are lucky.

So let us go, you and I, let us go,
Out into this new york night, 
to a new year of this our continued fight 
to be our best selves.

Light Tattoos - NYC

The Future is Female - NYC

Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Tuesday, November 07, 2017

Jeremy the dud

Some great performances. 
An important message. 
How good is the cab driver.

Monday, November 06, 2017

715 Creeks - Bon Iver

Just. Everything. About. This.

Saturday, November 04, 2017

No room for hate

At 3:04pm on 31 October 2017, Sayfullo Saipov sat at the wheel of his rented pick up truck on West St in Lower Manhattan. Maybe he wondered what he was about to do. Maybe he didn't. Whatever he was thinking, he eventually pressed his foot down on the accelerator and launched his truck down a bike lane that runs between West St and the Hudson River, crushing eight pedestrians.

At 3:04pm on 31 October 2017, I was about a block away, sitting in a laundromat, staring at the window of an industrial dryer as my clothes completed their final cycle. I was listening to music on my phone, blissfully unaware of what was happening a couple of streets away.

At 7:00pm on 31 October 2017, the NYC Village Halloween parade began its slow march up 6th Avenue, from Spring St in Lower Manhattan to 16th St in Chelsea. I don't know if this happens at the parade every year, but this year, a small group of 'angels' dressed all in white walked silently ahead of the main parade performers. One of the angels carried a sign which read, 'No Room For Hate'.

At 7:07pm on 31 October 2017, I took this shot from the corner of Bedford St and 6th Avenue - exactly five blocks from the spot where, just four hours earlier, Sayfullo Saipov must have taken a deep breath, his foot hovering above the accelerator...

We all have a choice.

Friday, October 20, 2017

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Paper Boats - Nada Surf

What's wrong?
Are you sure nothing's wrong?
But you're sad about something?
So tell me what?
I don't know...

... I can't tell you.

Sunday, October 15, 2017