Tuesday, August 31, 2010


How can I write poetry anymore
When you will know it is
about you.

I am coming home to you

Things that I have learnt about love (and other stuff) from romantic films:

(I've written a bunch more, but they will go in my zine)

Before Sunset:

From this film, I learnt that you can sit on your love for a person for years. Then when you run into that person again, you will click instantly and then you will want to end your unhappy marriage and listen to Nina Simone in her apartment all day long.

He's Just Not That Into You:

In this film, I learnt that if you are Ginnifer Goodwin, you should throw yourself at Justin Long and he will reject you at first, but then realise you are awesome and want to date you. There was a lot of stuff about marriage, but I really wish they had not made marriage seem so important, and made out that every woman wants to get married. I never want to get married because I can feel committed to someone without it. It just seems like such a stifling institution. Next, if you are cheating on your wife with Scarlett Johansson, then you should be honest with her and blurt it out when you are shopping for homeware (or whatever it was). Honesty is pretty important, and even though it will hurt your spouse to tell them, it is better than being deceitful. Basically, you are morally bankrupt if you can cheat on your sig. other and lie to their face every day. Lastly, I learnt that Scarlett Johansson is buxom as hell.

Pearl Harbor:

When your best friend dies, probably don't do her girlfriend right away because he might still be alive and then things will be real awkward.


Break ups are pretty hard, but if you meet someone and make music with them, it will make you realise that you should go after your ex again. Wait, what? Going back to an ex is more often than not, a very bad idea. Don't do it. So basically this movie taught me nothing, apart from that Irishmen are babes.

Love, Actually:

I suppose there is a message in every little story in this film, here are some:

You can love someone because you realise that they are the only person who is always there for you.

If you love someone enough, you will learn another language for them and fly to a different country to propose to them.

When you have been married for a long time, it is easy to give into someone who is interested in you. But you probably shouldn't because Emma Thompson is a pretty cool wife.

You can meet someone in the most unlikely place.

Often love doesn't work out the way you thought it would.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Running Like A Man

These are some mix CDs that I have received. My cat was pretty perturbed about this.

just between you & me

New Topic: Love.

I want to know what you think about Love. It's pretty broad so you could write about anything. The reason I chose this topic is because I am currently making a Love zine, and maybe I will include responses to this topic in it.

Before you do anything, you should watch this video.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Remember this

product of my saturday night

I used this pattern with probably about 6 or 7 ply wool (I can't remember) and a 5 mm hook. I started at about 8pm and finished at 3.30am. The reason I love crochet so much is that it grows fast. Oh and it's not actually black, it's brown. I'm going to do another one in blue, or go to my local op shops today and look for some more wool! YAY.

Friday, August 27, 2010


i fall back into depression as if I were falling into the back of a comfortable couch,
i just want to hug my cat and then hug my dog and then sit here
and then have a shower and just nothing
just nothing because everything seems too frightening
and then i'll want to talk but my throat is filled with marbles
and then i'll want to write but i just end up writing this
and this is no good
and i'm no good
and so i'll keep sitting here,
maybe watch the simpsons or something
to pass the time.
and i'll probably think of you
and i'll probably have a glass of water
and that's it.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

notes about tea

Because I am so poor at the moment I took tea rations from my mum's house when I visited last weekend. Mostly I just drink green tea, with my favourite kind being jasmine scented. I had a real love affair with jasmine last year, but this year we've lost touch. I drink my tea from one of two cups, and I took a photo of my favourite one.

I have decided to go to my friend's birthday party as Russian caravan tea, "a blend of lapsang souchong with assam black tea. Lapsang souchong tea leaves are dried in bamboo baskets over pine fires. The Russian Caravan is a medium strong tea that has a smoky aroma and a hint of malt flavor." (My friend is Russian). I will tie a long string to my hair and make a big tea bag label.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010


The other week I went to see Band of Horses at the Powerstation. I wasn't really expecting that much, especially because I hadn't really been able to get into their lastest album, Infinite Arms. However, I really enjoyed it, and I don't think that it was just the wine.

My favourite part was in the encore, when they played Evening Kitchen and also the last song, Funeral, was really great. Here is a video from the show of Evening Kitchen, I really liked it because at this particular point of a verse, which occurs twice, everyone just goes crazy for the harmony and the two guys smile and it made me really happy. Also, at the end they put their arms around each other and I thought that was really sweet. Isn't it annoying that there's always people that want to yell stuff in the silences though? Why do people do that? Anyway, here it is, I hope you feel like you were there too:

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

my top blogs at the moment

Whip Up

This is the best craft blog I've come across by far. It's not weighed down with lots of "hurrahs" and "lovely" and cheesy stuff like that, but helpful links, tips and ideas about craft projects. Seriously cool shit like this list of ultimate geek knit and crochet.

Rhys is a poet and a friend of mine. I think he is also a very special person. He threw a party and filled the bath with beanbag beans. When he performs his poetry it is quite honestly one of the most mesmerising and awesome things of all time. His blog is filled with adorable little insights into his life.

This is a food blog written by my good friend and former colleague, Mrs Robertson. She chooses a vegetable (usually one that I wouldn't think to cook with) and makes something very very delicious. I have eaten her food before and can testify to its deliciousness. I find her blog well written and entertaining, because she includes anecdotes about soundtracks whilst cooking and miscellaneous things that happen in the Robertson household.

This is a blog about op shops in Melbourne. Anybody can join and write about their own op shop finds. It's not always interesting or well written and I guess it's sometimes annoying seeing other people find cool things, but I really like reading about the different op shops in Melbourne.

I have to rather shamelessly plug the Voiceworks blog. Sometimes I post writing related things there. When I say 'sometimes' I mean I have done it once, but will totally do it again in the near future.

it's the little things that we do that mean anything

when i think about tea i think about my two hands wrapped around a mug, and I will be holding the mug to my lips, blowing on it so that the warmth of the steam tickles my face and also i do it to cool down my tea even though that probably doesn't work. then i will take that first brave sip, not knowing whether it will burn my tongue or be just right; this is the risk that i take everyday. when i finally take a sip, the tea warms my insides and it makes me feel happy. sometimes to accompany my tea there will be gingernuts or super wines, which are pretty good for dunking, and there may even be toast. when i'm drinking tea it is the few minutes out of my day that i can really relax (apart from sleep). i sip my tea and i think about stuff. sometimes i sigh and sometimes i smile.

Monday, August 23, 2010

my cat has stinky breath

Lately I've been really bored by my RSS feeds, can anyone recommend me some good blogs that are not just stupid girls taking pictures of their outfits and stuff? Blogs with actual substance perhaps?

Top 5 things in my RSS Feeds:

1. the colour of my love for you - He writes really nice things.
2. e is for ernest - Just like a real sweet guy aye.
3. dreamcats - Pictures of cats that are dreamy.
4. of mornings - Pictures of people's breakfasts because I like breakfast foods.
5. i eat poetry - A poetry blog with poetry in it.

I'll try to write a poem about tea during the week. I'll be extra vigilant in my research.

Sunday, August 22, 2010


Two topics/tasks from me to make up for the lack of posts.

Topic shall be: tea

Task: top five blogs/things in your RSS feed

we would love for you to take part!

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

the commuter's chorus

A cocoon of sorts. With a soundtrack, the train ride is transformed. A leg movement, brushing hair away from eyes, a glance outside or more truthfully, depending on time of day - at night the windows become mirrors - a glance to a reflection, yours or someone else's; these all become intimate, grandiose or hilarious happenings. Opening a bag, folding a newspaper, fiddling on a phone: curating personal music choice irrevocably weaves atmospheric power over what is otherwise an ordinary occasion. But then, train rides are never truly quiet, even without music, though the silence of drained peak hour commuters of the inner city suggests the contrary. Omnipresent high pitched wailing, whether from closing doors or simply a bodiless train whine; train wheels comfortingly beat ceaseless rhythms against the tracks, entrusted with your safety (no permission slips), consistency and reliability the only stipulation of this unwritten contract. A murmured excuse, apologies, may I sit here, other polite mumbles between passengers who eschew eye contact - connecting bums with seats the main priority - join the commuter's chorus.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

A poem about somethin'

On my calendar

there is a day marked
'starting over.'
I feel like myself again.
I am sitting inside of
my warm cocoon,
listening to the croon
of a Southern woman,
she sings about
wanting somethin’.
I sigh,
watching the needle
as it gently caresses
the grooves like the hands of a
and think about wanting
somethin’ of my own.

she's just a little tease

First of all, sorry we have been slack with this blog as of late. I, for one, have been in a pretty weird place lately, plus I haven't had a lot of access to the internet. I also haven't been sharing my poetry because people often read into that stuff, but I will start again soon. It is pretty good motivation to have to post poetry here once a week, but we can't do it every week, we are not poetry machines! I have also deleted my own personal blog for various reasons so this will now be my primary blog, thus I will try to write in it a lot more. Anywho, onto the topic of the week.

The reason why I chose this as a topic is because public transport is a big part of my life, really. I catch buses, exclusively, because I don't like trains, I don't often have to take ferries and we don't have trams in Auckland apart from that one by Motat which goes for about 100 metres. When I lived in the city, buses were really easy to catch and also pretty cheap, but now that I live back at my parents they don't come so often, cost more and take longer to get to the destination. Though, I do quite like long bus rides, and there is something about the perspective of the world through a bus window that I just love.

Here are some things I like about catching the bus: amiable bus drivers, air conditioning, comfy and squishy seats, when someone is pushing the button and it isn't working so you press the one nearest you and they give you an appreciative smile, giving your seat up to people who need it more, the sun on your face through the bus window, the seat to the left of the back door which is my favourite place to sit, giving people bus information because you know way too much about Auckland buses, etc.

These are the things I don't like: people who don't take their bag off the seat when the bus is really full, mean bus drivers on a power trip, no air conditioning, seats that are detrimental to your posture, smelly teens, when people talk loudly on their cellphones, crowded buses, when you have to stand up and it's real awkward, awkward bus silences, needing to pee on a long journey, etc.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Zinefest 2010

Today was the zinefest, it was really nice, and there was such a great turn out. Thanks if you came, and even more so, thanks if you came, picked up a copy of the People Are Just People zine and have decided to investigate this blog. We should hang out.

This is what the cover looked like (Sorry about photobooth pictures, my camera cord is a wily wabbit):

Being a zine stallholder is great because you don't have to buy zines, you just swap with other people. This is me peek-a-booing from behind my loot, which I am very excited to read through:

Two bags of bones

Sorry the design of the blog is so horrible right now, I don't have time to fix it. Even though I'm 4 days late, here is the topic for this week:

Public Transport.

p.s. you should listen to this.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

places I have gotten mix CDs from

A lot of people have made me mix CDs in the past. It's really nice receiving mail and there being a CD inside. I have made some in my time but feel they fall short of the calibre that I've got in return. Here are some of the places my CDs have come from.

New York, USA

I don't remember how or where I "met" her, but this girl Becky and I traded CDs a few times. She does some radio at her college in NYC and we bonded over that. I liked all the CDs she sent me and still listen to some of the songs now. I always felt like her CDs contained great songs, but they never really had a relationship to each other.

Swindon, UK

Ellie and I are penpals. Swindon is where the boy in Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time is from (his name was Christopher right?). She sent me a mix for my Eighteenth birthday. This CD had Joanna Newsom, Tilly and the Wall and Eisley.

Cardiff, Wales

My cousin Sam made me a mix CD because apparently I sent him one about four years ago and I did it Stacey style, wrote out little descriptions of each of the songs. So last Christmas when we were visiting he said he'd made me one and I had completely forgotten that I'd sent him one. I was slightly embarrassed about it actually. Anyway the CD he gave me was really beautiful and had things like Camera Obscura and Karen Dalton and Iron & Wine on it.

Melbourne, Australia

I went to a Rat VS Possum gig where they asked people to bring mixed CDs to throw into a swapbox as you entered. I didn't make one because I was sad about some boy, but my friend Gemma and her husband Neil made extras of the ones they made and gave them to me. Gemma's was called "Guns to Gloria", a very clever title because it started with Guns and Roses and ended with Gloria by Laura Branigan. Gemma's CD was lovely because it had heaps of powerfully hilarious songs but also beautiful and poignant ones. Neil's was full of "cool people music" like Four Tet, bands from Glasgow and old 90s rap that I love now.

Also Shu Shu has made me some mix CDs that have been very enjoyable, including a Christmas mix that pleased me greatly. Her CDs featured a lot of Emmy the Great, who is very sweet and probably underrated if you ask me.

Horsham, Australia

At the end of year nine a girl in my class made her friends (including me) a mix CD that was really sweet. It contained this one Morcheeba song that we used in a video we made about a lighthouse, that Hoobastank song everyone knows and some Oasis.

Auckland, NZ

Stacey has sent me close to ten mix cds over our friendship together. My music taste has been framed around the choices she made. I'm like her sonic puppet. She is responsible for my love of Rilo Kiley, Bright Eyes, Ryan Adams, Regina Spektor, The Mountain Goats and so on.

I feel slightly lazy that my music taste has practically been dictated by other people. But also it pleases me because that makes music more of a journey, it makes it that much more meaningful.

Let's all trade CDs. I need some good rap music, so if anyone does that kind of stuff, please hook me up.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

These are old blues

I love making mix CDs. I really like to make it into an experience, and I'll sit in front of my computer for hours listening to songs to see if they fit in with the topic or the person I am making it for. Then there is the creation of the cover art, in which I usually like to cut and paste things from various sources. I will either type or write out the track listing on the inside cover. With Susie's mixes I usually include a little blurb about each song with what I think/feel about the song or fun facts or some other weird thing. Recently I made a mix which I call the "Are we breakin' up?' mix, taken from a Rilo Kiley song, which is on the CD (fun fact: that song makes me feel like going roller-skating). Anyway, that is my process.

If you want me to make you a mix CD, just let me know and I'd be more than happy to, provided that you sent me one back.


hey ya'll

this week will be waxing lyrical on making a mix CD.
feel free to add your own thoughts.

Monday, August 2, 2010

apostrophe t

Closed eyes and heart beats,
I can't do this.
The words appear
like neon lights
behind my eye lids,
and when I go to open my eyes,
the words are still luminous.
I can't do this, but someone told me I could.
So I sit, trying to
myself, and
I stare at my hands,
expecting the answer to
exude from my pores.
I move my hands upwards and allow
my face to fall into them,
welcoming and helpless
at the same time.
I'd give anything to discard
the apostrophe t.


I collect clothing
a cardigan, camel coloured –
seude easily ruined by rain –
A gift from a boyfriend,
(I think he had good taste)
mum thought he was the one.

I wore obsessively
a bracelet, battered bronze –
decorated by mysterious script –
Sold by Tibetan monks
(I’ve seen many since)
she’d forgotten its origin.

I keep shamefully
a sweater, Scandinavian strength –
sensible woollen itchiness –
Knitted for him and her
(I wear and love in secret)
mum still has its twin.

I longed for
beautiful blue boots –
leather with slight heel –
Worn at their wedding
(I have larger feet)
she never wears them now.

I sometimes wear
a simple swatch watch –
black without design –
My dad’s timepiece
(I know it doesn’t work)
cannot be repaired.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

four fears

I have been thinking about fears for this post and I figure that late in the night is a good time to be writing the post because it's when I'm usually very honest about things. The following happened to me last night.

Sometimes when I think too much I get very scared and wonder whether I'll get myself into some universal trouble. And if I think something too deep or clever I worry my brain will spasm or I'll have a stroke or something and I will die. Because one minute people are alive and the next they are dead.

I wrote that down after I finished feeling scared and reading it back I guess it's a bit vague. I often think about life and how very small and insignificant I am and that I will die. One time I was in my local video store and this mum was in there with a bunch of kids (hers and some extras I presume) and they were playing with a ball talking about how they were never going to die like it was a contest. "Nah, I'm not going to die", "NOOOO! I'm not!". And I will never forget a conversation I had with my friend Erin when we were much younger. We were convinced that by the time we got older they'd invent a pill that allowed you to live forever. I don't want to live forever; there are heaps of things I am looking forward to about getting older. I suspect it's just the largeness of the universe and so on that is frightening for me. It's all intertwined, this death/universe/life/philosophy/existing thing. I can't separate it or find a discrete factor that specifically frightens me. It's a combination, you see.

Tonight I went to a talk by Stephen Fry and he said some marvelous things, one of which seems slightly relevant at this point in my post: he mentioned being on the show "Who do you think you are?" which, as most people will know, was about tracing ancestry. Apparently they didn't tell him anything about his family history, they just researched it for months then called and said "bring your passport"! Fascinating. Anyway he remarked how we mostly fixate upon the relatives who are responsible for our surname, which, he said, is odd, given that from our parents we have two grandparents and between those grandparents there would be eight great-grandparents, each of those great-grandparents having pairs of parents of course; so the multiples do increase on and on into the thousands. All these people are responsible for our existence, which would simply not have been possible without them. Stephen then went on to say that if one had English parentage, one would most certainly have been related to Henry the Fourth. Said he, at that time, most of us would have over four thousand potential living relatives and taking into account how vogue incest was at the time, it was not altogether unlikely that one would have been in some way a part of his bloodline. I am very glad that Stephen mentioned this because I have often thought to myself that most people must be related to each other in some way (within reason of course, I suppose I'm talking anglo here) due to one thing or another. It's good to have it confirmed. He also did some very amusing impressions of his friends Hugh Laurie and Rowan Atkinson. He began anecdotes about his friends coyly but we, the audience, were so clever we figured it out and made sure to gush and ooh as we realised that the next anecdote was to be about meeting Emma Thompson at Cambridge or how utterly enthralling it was that Stephen is able to address Kenneth Branagh simply as Ken.

Digressions aside, another fear that I noted down today, with a small introduction.

I go to the bookstore with the best intentions. I'm sorry Tao Lin & Josephine Rowe & Italo Calvino & Jean Rhys & Jonathan Safran Foer, you will have to wait to change my life. Turns out I'll only allow myself a coffee from the adjoining cafe. The rest of my purchases must be visual only. 

I think I've gotten so used to being unable to afford things (heartbreak). Now I'm so disillusioned about actually owning or having things I never fully invest in anything at all. This must be why my mum never buys anything expensive.

Debunked, this is the fear that I will always remain detached from my life. I do so often feel as if I'm watching myself, like things are just unfolding and I am reacting without much thought. A minor fear is that I can't finish reading books. Maybe I will never finish reading all those books I buy at secondhand stores. It can't help that I spend half my day in bed with Seinfeld dvds.

In addition to seeing Stephen Fry earlier this evening, at uni we had to attend a talk by Robert Rosen, a documentary/filmmaker/former dean at UCLA. I figured it would be boring as I'm not really into documentary and film, being a radio/wordsmith type, but went along because I have an inherent sense of duty like that. Incidentally, and the reason why I bring it up now, both he and Stephen had the good sense to bring up the question of storytelling. Stephen said he always knew his life would be intertwined with words in some way, that he would always have a connection to storytelling. Robert Rosen said that as media makers we have to find stories that people, not just our parents and friends, will want to hear. When Robert said that I stopped composing the letter I'd begun to my friend in England and paid attention. My next fear is

that I will never write anything worthwhile

I am here pretending that I'm a writer, using words to convey things to you right now. If you've persevered to the end of this I applaud you! But I wonder, how do I write something that moves people? Connects? Angers? Enthralls? Do I even have to? I want to improve my poetry writing skills but all I write about is how I can't write poetry and I know how cliched that gets. I fear I will never work out what other people want to read. It is only coincidental, I suppose, that both Robert and Stephen mentioned storytelling to me (well, and others, if we're being honest) in the space of forty hours, but nevertheless, as something I frequently mull over, it has heightened my sense of anxiety about storytelling and what I fear is my inability to do it.