chronic romanticism and letter writing

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The week-end before last, I finished reading Love in the Time of Cholera (by Gabriel Garcia Marquez) on a flight home from interstate. I finished reading it about half an hour before we were due to descend, and I spent this time staring out the window (I always choose a window seat if I can), reflecting on the events and characters of the novel, and also contemplating any parallels with my own life.

One of the principal characters, Florentino Ariza, is what most would call a hopeless romantic. At one or two points in the novel, his mother proclaims that the only ailment he ever truly suffered was love. Indeed, he is lovesick to the highest degree, as he waits over half a century for the woman he loves, even after she rejected him and married another man.  Continue reading →

possibilities

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Sometimes I wonder if my tendency to attach meaning to even the most ordinary things is a product of my being a reader or a writer.

Reading shows me many possibilities. Writing makes me want to seek more possibilities.

Symbolism, metaphors, analogies, lyricism…

Did I learn these from reading or writing? (I suppose the two go hand-in-hand.)

Lightning, butterflies, a speeding car, an ominous cloud…

Do I dramatise things because that’s what I’ve been shown, or because that is what I seek?

Still water, a familiar scent, refracted light, cautious footsteps…

How do I know if it is excessive? An affliction?

Nervous excitement, a poem, fallen leaves, a dream…

Of all the possibilities in the world, I’m not sure if it’s possible to really change this. I’m not sure if I would.

A waterfall, memories, a soothing melody, sunshine…

Thursday Doors: Footscray

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Back to Melbourne for this instalment of Thursday Doors, specifically to the suburb of Footscray, in Melbourne’s westside.

I suppose you could say Footscray is a very culturally diverse part of Melbourne. If you walk through the main part of the suburb, you’ll find shops and restaurants selling food and wares from various Asian, African and Middle Eastern countries. I think there are probably as many signs in other languages as there are in English (perhaps more signs in non-English languages).  Continue reading →

lessons from tomatoes

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I’ve been thinking a lot about gardens lately. Somewhere in Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott uses gardening as a metaphor for life: you plant some things, you look after them, they grow, some of them die, you learn, and then you plant more (or other) things. Gardening is a good metaphor for life because gardens are full of life (hopefully).

A few months ago, a couple of friends of mine went on a road trip. They would be gone for about three weeks, so they needed someone to look after their cherry tomato plants. I seemed the most suitable/reliable candidate, so one week-end they brought two large pots, each with several little tomato plants, over to my place. The only instructions they left with me were to water them every day, and make sure they got lots of sunlight.  Continue reading →

for those who count

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My little townhouse is two storeys tall. It has a little staircase that spirals up on one side, and I go up and down these stairs many times a day.

When I catch the train to work, I have to go up a flight of stairs to reach the platform. And when I enter the building, I go up three flights of stairs to get to the floor my workplace is on.

If I drive to work, I try to park in one of the lower levels in the carpark so that I can go up more stairs to get to the walkway leading into the building (but also so that I drive less, as the carpark starts on ground level and goes upwards).  Continue reading →

Thursday Doors: inner Brissie

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For this instalment of Thursday Doors, I thought I’d share some miscellaneous doors from Brisbane’s inner city suburbs. And then next time I might revisit Melbourne or post some more doors from my friends’ holiday. I suppose this is like a TD version of homesickness – posting so many doors from other places makes me want to return to Brisbane doors.  Continue reading →