On March 29, 2016 In Sloth
Geelong and Hawthorn in March, little at stake. We sit on the peak, view of gods. Hawks faction of the family yaws and caws, the cats sit in desolate silence. Quarter ends, goals change, scores reverse. The wind prevails, the game reshapes.
On March 29, 2016 In Envy
Traipsing through this museum a hard slog. The narrator’s obsessive love makes the theory of mimetic desire real. A dizzying doubling reflexivity. Read compulsively and reluctantly in patches, taking a breather with other less needy works. Journey done. Cup of tea required.
Easter is a difficult concept. All that blood lust and the sense of a pagan back story. Greek tradition plays out the tragedy in full, and like most things in Western civilisation, here we are, indebted again. Sacrifice comes in many guises.
On March 22, 2016 In Wrath
Palm Sunday March. Walking behind all kinds of groups in sympathy, empathy. Gathering our frail hopes. Lone cries en masse. Threading through our marching feet, shoppers, bent on their own missions. We stand to be counted, cry for shame. Again. Again. Again.
On March 16, 2016 In Sloth
Morefire #181 is at its best in the venue that feels just right. Jessi I continues to foster the love and the sisters mix it up with some big voice and we groove in deep to our reggae church like it’s 1999 (vale Prince).
On March 15, 2016 In Sloth
The lute, voice and drums of Xylouris White erupting all over Melbourne. Oakleigh Caravan Club bursting with Hellenic life and respect for Xylouris legacy. Love and tragedy. Dancers, arms up. Full tables, red raw palms, feel of the floor in my feet.