Category Archives: Memory
Everything will be alright, there’s really nothing to worry about too much
It’s always uncomfortable when people talk about their favourite bands and you don’t like their bands, or can’t be bothered to listen to yet another thing that people say you should listen to. So maybe this post isn’t for you. Maybe it’s … Continue reading
Horse of the sky
Last weekend I went up in my dad’s Cherokee (him flying, not me). My dad has a hangar at the little aeroclub just outside Blenheim, where he keeps his plane, which is named SNE. He’s a hobbyist, not a commercial … Continue reading
Bob
I’ve been thinking about my old next-door neighbour Bob, who is long dead now. (There was another Bob, who worked at the corner shop, but I’ll get to him in another post.) There are a lot of gaps in what … Continue reading
Visitation
If you swivel the map below around so that you can see the bright red, yellow, and green house, you’ll see a long driveway with a lone figure standing on it, holding a recycling bin, I think. (Weirdly, when I … Continue reading
The unseen ass
To this day, I’ve haven’t thought of a decent comeback. I will never have one. I don’t believe anyone really has one. It’s because there is nothing to say. There’s just nowhere intelligent to go, maybe because I don’t disagree … Continue reading
Don’t you know who I am in my head?
Two or three years ago I taught a course in prose and discovered my students were watching the soap operas every morning and afternoon. I don’t know when they studied. So I watched two or three just to see what … Continue reading
On carrying a notebook around
A recent attempt at “carrying a notebook around” Carrying a pocket notebook everywhere with me is my favorite hobby. – Person on annoying blog about being a better writer Take Care of Your Little Notebook Charles Simic, New York Times … Continue reading
A scattering
‘Good luck and believe me, dearest Doc – it’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.’ Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s by … Continue reading
Death and the memory box
Wasted Rita “I have the cornflower I wore in my buttonhole to the first evening out with my first serious girlfriend in 1977 …” – Commenter on ‘Should memory boxes be given the boot?’ by Oliver Burkeman “The Museum comprises a … Continue reading
