Icecream
Last modified on 2009-12-13 14:12:29 GMT. 1 comment. Top.
Warning: If strong language offends, please tune out now (and thanks to Fugazi for those offensive words).
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Forbes Street
Last modified on 2009-12-13 04:46:18 GMT. 1 comment. Top.
This is Forbes Street. Guitars, Sing-a-longs. Beer. Smoking. Laughing. Hammocks and falling-apart couches. This is the night we waited for Leon, Lizzy and Lily to come home from South America. And this is what my friends have to put up with when I have the camera out. Poor buggers. Lucky they love me.
With thanks to OLD CROW MEDICINE SHOW for the music.
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David and Teresa Lexine
Last modified on 2009-12-03 00:32:58 GMT. 2 comments. Top.
There was a time in my life when I was incredibly sad (as in full of sorrow rather than pathetic) and these two spectacular human beings were the only shining lights in my day. I was so wrapped up in extracting myself from said sadness that I never told them how much it meant to come home to them. But I am deeply grateful. And I adore them. I also adore interpretive dancing and wine drinking with them.
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Last Summer
Last modified on 2009-12-03 00:43:03 GMT. 0 comments. Top.
Looks the same as this Summer except Ronin is bigger.
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Kylyn and Keeden
Last modified on 2010-01-03 05:06:53 GMT. 0 comments. Top.
Kylyn was my best friend when we were six. We’d know each other since preschool but I have a workbook with a picture I’d drawn of her saying ‘Kylyn is my best friend‘ in big clumsy letters from then. We were little kids from a small country town; grubby knees, hippy parents and skivvy’s in the winter. I stayed at her house, and I taught her how to sunbake naked, and we climbed trees and played with dolls.
I moved around a lot as a kid and we lost touch after that year until we were 12 and at High School where we became best friends again. Then we were bored teenagers in a small country town; letter books, art and throwing things at boys. I stayed at her house again, and she introduced me to the third boy I pashed, and we wanted to travel the world and be photographers for National Geographic.
We’ve hung out over the years since we left school, wide-eyed and gullible; from hitchhiking to Paris, to sharing a house in Paris Street, parting in London and dancing in the mud at Woodford but gradually life has taken us separate ways, to separate cities. We make sure to keep in touch here and there, and although we may miss the odd milestone in the hustle of everyday life, those few letters we type mean a lot.
In October she had her first baby – a milestone I refused to miss, as our friendship stretches back to when we were babies. I visited her and her sweet and funny partner Ian at their lovely home in the Blue Mountains, and we re-enacted our High School Art project (she nuded up for me – nothing but the size of her belly has changed there!) and then this weekend I got to meet her serene little frog of a son, Keeden Nioka Harrison. It was a delightful moment, and hopefully the first of a new kind of milestone in the next 20-something years of our friendship.
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JOY 94.9FM Interview
Last modified on 2009-11-30 03:17:33 GMT. 0 comments. Top.
This is a podcast of my interview about Show Us Ya Tits with the very lovely Dean Beck and James Findlay from the Hide and Seek program on Australia’s only Gay and Lesbian radio station Joy 94.9FM
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Open Day at the Deception Bay crematorium
Last modified on 2009-11-25 07:32:08 GMT. 0 comments. Top.
I particularly like the balloons.
The irony being that this was my second news job of the day – I had just travelled from the Caboolture Hospital Expo on Aging. A route I am sure is taken often.
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Charlotte Jean
Last modified on 2009-11-22 11:21:15 GMT. 1 comment. Top.
The sweetest girl I ever seen.
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Grandparents
Last modified on 2009-11-19 02:24:42 GMT. 1 comment. Top.
Big chair, little chair. Big lamp, little lamp. Big vase, little vase. Big stripes, little stripes. Puppa reading. Nanna’s tissue. Comfortable shoes. My grandparents house.
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Road Trip
Last modified on 2009-11-18 23:59:59 GMT. 3 comments. Top.
We sat in the car for eight hours. It was hot. We had drunk too much champagne and slept too little. We took turns sleeping and driving. Sleeping and driving. Sleeping and driving. Monotony. Conversation. Words staving off sleep behind the wheel. Signs. Chips. Coffee. The bush rushing past. Driving. Driving. More driving. Home to Melbourne, a city that welcomed us with dusty, dry arms.
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