old punk

On growing up in Canberra:

"Sure, I had some great experiences, but I'd trade them in for some good parenting and support any day."

world map tetris

the cartographer hears a confession over crepes: i make tetris games of world maps. brazil fits into africa, see. madagascar belongs with mozambique. papua tucks into the gulf, new zealand hugs the eastern seaboard.

so how do we fit together? what does that mean for us?

the cartographer mops up chocolate and strawberries and cream, and follows my eye to the map on the wall. "I know something of how that all works," he says, wistful, and disappears into his own world.

Polite cyclist

To that guy I see around over the years, mostly with your dark hair under a helmet, framing that square jaw and well-adjusted smile.

We cross paths on the bike highway and find ourselves in the queue together at the bottle shop while it pelts down outside, or on the back deck at a party. I am glad of your sensible conversation at two am. I passed you yesterday on the footpath on St Georges Road, and at CERES a while back I set eyes on your partner and the small children you summon in every conversation.

You seem like a kind man. But please don't brandish my name like a weapon, showing me how sharp your memory is. I like you. Put your memory away, or prompt mine. Talk about yourself in the third person or something.

Colosseum on Collins

"So he looked up and his nose was just ... gone," a businessman tells his Blackberry, his face a matrix of broken capillaries. "Blood spurting ten foot in the air. Blood just everywhere. Ah, it was terrible. The worst thing I've seen in sport for a long time. No nose. Just terrible."

He hangs up and disappears into Centre Way, a flash of navy pinstripes fighting to the front of the queue for his lunchtime baguette.

next time you get towed too