On Your Marks



Late January, water fills the air.

Bugs swimming on human skin, grazing, nipping at dead epidermal cells, probing deeper for summer blood.

Overnight minimums equal fair weather maximums. Sound sleep, a psychotic dream.

The busyness of another year ramps up. Minors getting ready for term one of the prescribed curriculum, majors plotting a win on the economic battlefield, if they’re lucky enough to be enlisted. Every minute counts now we’re paid by the minute. Every minute accountable.

Be productive, economic growth depends upon it. Economic growth trumps everything.

The sweat on your brow, on your collar and between your thighs, the lubricant for having a go.


Get set.


Home is a person


When he’s away, the days are so long. What to do with all this time?

When he’s here, there’s walks to walk, gardens to tend, and dinners to prepare.

And then, there’s those intimate times, times of connection. Hours occupied.

She goes to the shopping centre, not for the social interaction, just to kill time. She walks slowly through the aisles, spotting goods from any nation you could name.

She will try to remember that ingredient in the Eastern European section in aisle four. What could that be used for? Google that later, if I remember, she thinks.

She spends time in cleaning products. Normally, it’s a quick stroll through here. Grab some laundry liquid, perhaps some dishwashing detergent, and do I need more Gumption? Hey, they still make Ajax, oh the memories. And look here, Sard Wonder Soap now comes in a stick, well they’re you go. She spots a three pack of Pear’s Soap, he loves that, just one of his idiosyncrasies that simultaneously annoys and delights.

He’ll be home soon. He’ll appreciate the soap and the Hungarian pomegranate juice. And she’ll smell his neck and armpits, and she’ll relax. Home is a person, she has worked out.

‘Stories From Bondi’

I’m waiting on Ginninderra Press for the final proofs of my collection Dead People Don’t Make Jam. Thought I’d reblog this post from Libby Sommer which explains the process.

Libby Sommer, Author

painting of girl lying on beach in torquoise bikini reading a book

Woohoo. I finished correcting first proofs of my new collection STORIES FROM BONDI due for publication by Ginninderra Press in September. A big job. Final proofs are the next step in the publishing process.

So what are first proofs?

Initial proofs of the book from the typesetter, sometimes still delivered in galley format.

For the author, this first set of author proofs can be a challenge because often what is delivered is the raw typesetting output. Text will have been formatted and a key task for the author is to check that no text corruptions occurred at the file conversion stage of typesetting.

However, because tables, illustrations, etc. may not yet have been added, what these first proofs still lack are the real page breaks and an indication of the book’s final extent. For this reason, careful scrutiny still needs to be given to the final proofs

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