It makes the world go round.
In a lonely place the pressure of sunlight falling made active the world over Bookshelf poetry. I can’t claim it as my own idea, it’s Oh Jaewoo’s a Korean artist currently exhibiting at City Gallery Wellington. He investigates how art is valued and consumed within contemporary culture and how, by the restrictions and or freedoms inherent within us, we curate the world around us. A couple of days ago...
“Let’s take it from the golden butt chain,” Prue instructs over the intercom. I give her the thumbs up, clear my throat and begin reading. “A golden butt chain is parading mere meters away from me.” I carefully modulate my vowels and ensure the plosive sounds don’t pop. I am living my dream, reimagining the wonders of an Aruban carnival while recording Sea Fever for National Radio. Suspended...
I suspect he can’t. And frankly nor can I. I’m talking about the decision by the Anglican Synod to ban women from becoming bishops. Religious hypocrisy and blinked pick ‘n’ mix reading of the scriptures aside, this decision does something even more insidious than simply say ‘no‘ to ‘lady bishops’, it signals that the Anglican Church and its institutional sexism is outside, above, and over the Law. Last...
‘What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks?’ Tilda Swinton whispered in my ear. What indeed? I thought as I walked up our (goat) path to the road, leaving behind my sea- captain and cabin boy. For the next 13 minutes I listened to her beautifully modulated voice read the first chapter of the magnificent,...
“Get your hands off my woman Mother F*ucker!”Justin’s trill falsetto voice filled the Brixton Academy as embroidered flames licked up his sinewy rock star frame and exploded in the crotch of his white jumpsuit. A really expensive lighting rig haloed his hair, long and limp with sweat. It was the stuff 1970’s album covers were made of, only it was real. There standing before me was my dream man. A man,...
Spring Updates: I am now doing four days a week at work. I have to wear high heels so my feet can touch the floor while I’m writing The Honey Hunters. At present I have super curly hair. I also have a chest infection. Dad started chemotherapy today. The golden book of spells I produced for artist Rohan Wealleans was published last week. Zadie Smith’s new book...
I recently had the privilege of being part of the Wellington on a Plate Imbibe Pecha Kucha night. I ummed and ahhhed about what to do my talk on and in the end I chose to talk about Rum, Sodomy and the Lash. Here is a link to it. You will be my amazing by new Gorman dress. Phantom pink Zebras a go go! Former Real Hot...
A few weeks ago, over lunch, Mrs Hempel told me that it in order to receive the maximum stress relieving benefits from exercise you have to pant. Not breathe heavily but pant. “What? Like a dog?” I enquired. “Yes, like this” she explained and demonstrated panting into her haloumi. Since that fateful lunch date I have pondered panting, and (coincidentally) become extremely stressed. Aside from the obvious exercise...
Boy oh boy am I missing the boys. They have been visiting Gran and John-John on the farm. I have been working and admittedly, swanning off to Auckland for Bianca’s book launch but, it has been a cold and empty casa with out them. I arrive home and everything is exactly where I left it. No little boy saying ”Go away Mama!” and then 10 seconds later flinging his...
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