Poem I

Recipe for an Australian Summer Roadtrip

The thick, damp smell of perspiration and sunscreen
leaving oily traces in unexpected places
on car door handles, seats, and sunglasses
bums stuck to seats.
Strange lines crawling, rotating across
faces, arms, thighs and feet.
the flicker of trees, passing
casting light or shadow, light or shadow
strange tan lines. sunburnt feet.
while a single cloud hangs forlorn in the sky.
There is not wind, only the warm
artificial one that comes through the
gap in the window
Conversations evaporating as the water in our
throats dry up.
life freezing in a hot shimmering melt under a red traffic light
Where did the drink bottle go?
A crinkle of sweaty tissues on the
floor. discarded. dehydrated.
Moisture sucked drop by drop.
It’s an easy weight loss program, like
wringing a sponge.
Easy- until thirst can stand no more.
It was in the corner, on the back seat.

Wanderlust

Art

The front cover of my 2010 school art visual diary.

Hands

A Typewriter

This is a quick line drawing as part of something bigger I have in mind...

Trees + Girl (with headdress)

These are some line drawings that I do when I want to unwind- they usually start off from a single point and grow to sometimes cover a whole page, in a stream of consciousness kind of way. I feel that I could have gone so much further with the Indian headdress if only my pen didn't start to run out.
Maybe in retrospect that was a good thing?

On the beach at Glenelg

Watercolours have never been one of my strengths. It would seem to me that this hasn't changed. I'm too impatient to wait for each wash to dry properly, so my paintings tend to end up as one big inky blur with colours bleeding everywhere.
One day I'll teach myself how to paint properly- when I have the patience.

Original photo taken from the November page of my 2008 calendar

44 Sunsets

From Antoine de Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince:

Oh, little prince! Bit by bit I came to understand the secrets of your sad little life... For a long time you had found your only entertainment in the quiet pleasure of looking at the sunset.
I learned that new detail on the morning of the fourth day, when you said to me:
"I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset now."
"But we must wait," I said.
"Wait? For what?"
"For the sunset. We must wait until it is time."
At first you seemed to be very much surprised. And then you laughed to yourself. You said to me: "I am always thinking that I am at home!"
Just so. Everybody knows that when it is noon in the United States the sun is setting over France. If you could fly to France in one minute, you could go straight into the sunset, right from noon. Unfortunately, France is too far away for that. But on your tiny planet, my little prince, all you need do is move your chair a few steps. You can see the day end and the twilight falling whenever you like...
"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-four times!"
And a little later you added: "You know, one loves the sunset, when one is so sad..."
"Were you so sad, then?" I asked, "on the day of the forty-four sunsets?"

Blaise Pascal:

'The heart has its reasons that reason doesn't know.'

Knit Knitting Knitted

Doodles on the back of my sketchbook:

Knitting Bird has been popping up in places for a while now, though I think never so publicly.

Melbourne nightlife

Thought I haven't done anything for a while, so spent the evening drawing this:

                                                A4

                                               Pencil on paper