The first day of Winter

"Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it?"

The days are excruciatingly short. Mornings are dark and sharp and cold and night falls suddenly, surprisingly like a wrong turn.
The car was fogged up this morning, so that my visibility was craptastic almost as far as the station.

On the shuffle today:
Paradise City (twice)
Sweet Child O'Mine
I Should be so Lucky - and here I had to put the book away (Batavia's Graveyard- bloody good) because my smile was just too active.
And then, crossing the carpark? Run to Paradise.

Work was awesome today, although it started at 4am. My mind is too busy and healthwise, in terms of food and exercise i'm living awful days.

The last few days of last week were spectacular. I went to Oxford Street books and bought a book of the best new Australian poetry, and the first poem was Adam Aitken's Pol Pot in Paris. And it gripped me and swung me round the room and then shook me into action: Banana you'll never win the Nobel prize if you don't write stuff and send it away.

So I pored over literary magazine sites, and listened to a wonderful new initiative called Paper Radio- and heart Jon Tjhia's velvet voice again, stretching through memory over the years. There's amazing stuff out there. And the Freo first-thursday-of-the-month readings are still on, and there's a place in Northbridge that does readings weekly.

Mat and I had a beautiful dinner on Friday, and lots of talk.
He is the only man I know besides my dad and my grand-dad, who wears PJs. Proper pjs, not boxers and t-shirts. I adore it.
I giggle every time i hang them on the line.

On Saturday, we met the neighbours on the other side. A beautiful young family, and the husband is from Melbourne - so we had an instant over-the-fence-talk-connection.
I replanted one of my frangipani trees, and cleared the weeds from where I want to put my herbs. The big ugly tree will have to go, that's where my garden bed will be... and I'll sort out some photos soon too.

Waiting for Godot - where did I see that play previously? I have memories (but they may be fabricated) of Axel Whitehead playing in it at school...? But the production at His Majestys was wonderful. I was a little tired and perhaps a tiny bit hungover and the theatre was overheated, but I felt solidly at home in Beckett's hopelessness of hope and tragic tussling with time. It's a wonderful play.

She could wake dreamers and split hearts with her night beauty