lay down your weary tune and all that

How unexpectedly difficult it is to feel good about oneself once you know you do not have to study over the holiday break, a stillness, a lack of inertia that should be relaxing but is after a point curiously mindnumbing

The week lingers in cricket counterstrike whisky alternation with A Landing on the Sun and C.L.R. James thrown in

An arcane personal mnemonic helps remember which page of a book you have stopped at when there isn't a bookmark to hand – 47, independence; 52, the year Ma was born; 111, Nelson; 87, the Australian Nelson, and so on –

The Chromatics are a good band. History repeats itself, subtly changed this time around, with irony, nostalgia, and remembering in the drawn out synths.


As I write this, I have opened the window to the afternoon sun and the curious comfort of the December wind. It snowed for a while yesterday, but the sun shines and the grass glows dewgreen today. The sky is a cold blue, with white clouds walking by on the street above, sometimes stopping, but mostly preoccupied, distracted, in a wind-driven rush.

I will do a lot many really good things in the new coming year, hopefully, if ---- wills it. Not good in the selfish sense, not 'good for me', but just good. Happiness to everyone who happens to read this post. May the white sands of Atlantis linger on your mind, and its welcoming blue waves always lap around your feet, leaving the air fragrant with the realised promise of a magnificent, starlit future radiantly nascent in their wake.