Today I gave away a story about me. Once it's gone it's gone, and it's no longer my story. A story is a dissection of any point in the universe, any point from A to B in our existence.

And so it is a dance around a pin point we call the truth.

Why Punctuation and Such Matters

Which is the actual headline?

Doctor who performed abortions shot to death.

Doctor Who performed abortions, shot to death.

Resistance is Futile

Blogging seems so old-fashioned in this hyper-text world of 250 character instant updates straight from the canaries beak. 'Good' bloggin seems almost like a literary endeavour compared to Facebook and tweets. For me the Golden Age of Blogging was probably 2002-2004. Why am I still doing this? Why did I do it then?

Then: Because it was a new medium. A needed outlet that paralleled major life changes and a means to funnel a lot of thought and creativity and also to connect to people.

Now: Habit? Nostalgia? Boredom?

Latest shift: My love for growing things has intensified. Lot's of herbs, flowering plants.

Next Step: Move somewhere with some earth of our own.

And then i created a twitter account

The Real Punk Rock

Getting Older. Getting Better

If an i-Pod plays without earphones...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/If_a_tree_falls_in_a_forest

Nuclear bomb tests help to identify fake whisky

It's true. That's all I have to say on the matter.

HOME

After I got divorced I would dream about living in tall shaky buildings. I would wind up the staircases until I could see the earth and its curve far away on the horizon. Then the wind would blow and the building would squeak and creak and protest. It's funny that I live in Sandy Hill. In a crooked house. Sometimes the wind blows through the place. And the ghosts waltz and twirl and say "hush".