Episode 1 of Gracepoint had been sitting on my hard drive for a while. It didn’t look enticing — but then again I think that about every series that eventually has me nervously twitching from the edge of my couch or falling in love with the leading man (hello Matthew Crawley!) The other day, Stephen King tweeted something about Gracepoint. I’m thinking, if it’s good enough for King then it’s good enough for me. So I gave the show a whirl last night. Hard to watch if you have a young son, which I do, but I’m set to keep watching it. Can’t say I like the character portrayal of the new detective in town; feel like he’s a bit over the top in some scenes. Overall, great first impression, even if it made me check on my boy twice before I retired for the night.
“I will try not to give up, but I will succeed” – sings lead vocalist and gifted songwriter Husky Gawenda during “For To Make A Lead Weight Float” – all the while a miniature battery-operated flamenco dancer is stomping her heels in time to this story-telling gem (or she may as well be). The song builds like the plot of an A-grade film, but ends abruptly, as though a hearty catch-up with a mate has sadly come to an end. Most of Rucker’s Hill will leave you feeling this way, which is part of its lingering charm. Above is an excerpt from the review I wrote of Husky’s latest album Rucker’s Hill which you can read over here.
Ok, so I’m FINALLY exercising my writing muscles and have gotten a live review of THE TEA PARTY published: The introduction of Fire In The Head was met with sheer delight as Martin began take two of audience hypnosis. Red lighting beamed behind and above, and crossed over into the crowd. Lullaby saw Martin go into crooning mode. His voice has been compared to Jim Morrison but tonight he sounded more like himself – a far better compliment. The chorus of the melancholic Water’s On Fire hit the audience deeply and that was soon paired with Release, which the crowd started to sing along to, as if part of a mantra. As Martin called out – “I want you to be free from me” – it soothed us, right up until the moment he changed guitars. That meant only one thing: serious business. Sure enough, Jeff Martin rocked that shit out – fans stood up in respect to salute the guitar that took the reigns. You can read the rest of the review I wrote …
You can only lose what you cling to. Buddha This is seriously my a-ha moment for the day.
You don’t drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there. Edwin Louis Cole
I ate my cheese and tomato toastie in the middle of my backyard with the sun on my back. I watched as a couple of butterflies fluttered over the garden shed, and a crow flew over my head. The wind moved my son’s school clothes ever so slightly on the line. A pigeon kept on cooing. Not so far away, ants fraternised madly with a twig, as though it may come to life; its sun-dried leaves remained flat against the pavement. My body still felt heavy from a harsh run with Winter colds, but everything around me was soothing and ready to float. I looked up at our gum tree, holding my arm up to shield from rays, and the tree seemed to acknowledge me. “Don’t worry,” it said. “I will take care of you.”
Respond to every call that excites your spirit. Rumi (I’ve been taking some downtime while I recover from Winter meanies. I’m almost my normal self again.)
More people have talent than discipline. That’s why discipline pays better. Mike Price
Write every day, they say. I’ve been getting stuck into my beloved Jack Canfield, dealing with feelings that have taken me by surprise, reading my old journals and searching within. I’d forgotten about my internal pledges all those years ago to become a writer. It was such an unusual feeling to be reminded of how badly I once wanted it. For a passion that was embedded so deeply, how and why could I have let it go? I think back to who I was back then, and I started to theorise that maybe it never got off the ground because it was all about the idea of being a writer. The sheer romance of it all. It would explain why I never submitted my work — well, I could count on one hand the work that I sent — but that doesn’t make much sense to me because I don’t submit my images for photographic competitions and awards as a photographer today either. I could also argue that perhaps I just wasn’t ready for submission …
About a year ago I sold a load of my writing books. And now I want them back. Something is stirring in me. The opacity slider on my internal creative wall is making its way over to the left hand side. This is a good thing.