Tag: writing
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On The Lifted Brow
I had a read of Issue 18 of The Lifted Brow and The Writers Bloc has published my thoughts. Thanks again to Geoff. Read.
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On White and The Vivisector and how somebody else ended up with my thoughts on Voss
I read Voss as an undergraduate in an Australian Literature class at the University of Western Sydney. My teacher was Leon Cantrell. I had Leon a few times, and in one subject he came to class with his arm in a sling. Now, when I come across the texts that remind me of him (Dickinson’s Read.
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On Raymond Carver
I finished Carver’s What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, finished the titular story and the collection, as we finally left behind a sprawling, half dry salt lake in the middle of Turkey, and shortly after we, from a roadside seller (who, before he saw us pulling in, was reclining in the drivers’ Read.
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On three things on the walls of my grandmother’s house
1. A photo of my grandfather. His smiling face, gold tooth and bare forehead, in a small wooden frame. This photo and a recording of his voice (in which the timbre of his voice falls somewhere between my father’s and my uncle’s) and apocryphal stories of his life, and death, is all I remember of Read.
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On Great Western Highway: A Love Story
My review of Great Western Highway: A Love Story (Capital, Volume One, Part Two) by Anthony Macris is now up at Verity La. All praise is again due to Mr Featherstone. P.S. My 2011 VL interview with Tony about his nonfiction release When Horse Became Saw can be read here. P.P.S. Be brave. Read.
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Untitled [On connecting the dots]
When I was a small child the mysteries and potentialities of a dot to dot picture would fill my stomach with what I understood were butterflies. I favoured blue-ink pens for the task of doing a dot to dot, colouring the finished picture in with textas or pencils later maybe but treating the dots and Read.
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On ‘Chest Open’
My short story Chest Open is now up at 3:AM Magazine. It’s a huge thrill to be published in 3:AM. I was going to use this space to write something about the story – but I just want to enjoy this one. Read.
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Some travel notes
“$22, one carton.” Cigarettes for sale on the plane. Lights are dimmed and switched off – peach sunset. Time to KL: 6:26 Distance to KL: 5,426 km Outside air temp: -18 C Altitude: 10364 m Old Indian man stares ahead at the blank screen as if there is something showing, sips wine from a plastic Read.
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On love
Stefany Anne Golberg’s article on Waiting for Godot, and love, is worth a fistful of your private moments. You could, like Vladimir or Estragon, easily be talked into hanging yourself from a tree by the only one who could save you from it. We must escape. We cannot. We can’t go on. We do. I Read.
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On the names of things – Part II
There was a domestic dispute in the block of flats across from mine last night. I was washing dishes when I heard screaming and fragile things breaking and grunting. It began in one of the apartments that faces mine, the balcony door open to the warm night, the argument therefore audible, and later continued in Read.
Tristan Foster 