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Recent Posts

• paper days and empty cups

  Posted on Sunday September 27th, 2009 at 11:15 in relationships, life, poetry, freedom, memoir, moods

  You discard the page of another month. It dribbles into the wide mouth of a dustbin. Time has been fickle. Little accomplished. You throw your empty cup in there too. Paper days and empty cups are for burning. Sometimes looking to the sky is no ...

• your privacy is invading our public

  Posted on Thursday September 24th, 2009 at 02:57 in humour, discoveries

  Excuse me, can I have a little privacy please? No. Because you’re in p-u-b-l-i-c. That’s how the system works. As it turns out, there’s no privacy in public. In fact, your privacy is invading our public. Why don’t you go somew...

• last impression of america

  Posted on Wednesday September 23rd, 2009 at 14:22 in poetry, usa, memoir

  America smells like cinnamon.  Its flags fly from front verandas.  It smells like snow and hot chocolate on a sidewalk in the dark.  America smells expensive like Clinique’s Happy. Its Wednesday afternoons let the sun ha...

• strange little band of characters

  Posted on Thursday September 10th, 2009 at 10:27 in family, quotes, discoveries

  These words by Erma Bombeck come so close to describing the dynamics in my household that I have to share them: "The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another&...

• i’ve come to realise that…

  Posted on Wednesday September 9th, 2009 at 16:40 in life, lists, confessions

  beauty… is overrated I’ll never stop… silently loving those I once loved out loud laughter… can be powerful crying… shouldn’t be reserved for movies my bra-size… doesn’t matter my job… has potenti...

• word on the street

  Posted on Sunday August 23rd, 2009 at 01:49 in life, society, perspective, revelations

  The word on the street is not a word. It’s a voice that moves through the traffic into the sidewalks, across car parks and into buildings. It’s the rhythm of collective direction along which the throng of us is swept, like water into mome...

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