Oct 2, 2014
Circular Quay, Sydney

Circular Quay, Sydney

Oct 1, 2014
Fitzroy Gardens

Fitzroy Gardens

Sep 28, 2014
Spectrogram of sound from Fitzroy Gardens yesterday, mainly helicopters and rainbow lorikeets.

Spectrogram of sound from Fitzroy Gardens yesterday, mainly helicopters and rainbow lorikeets.

Sep 27, 2014
particlebooks:

Winter, Possums by Felix Wilson28 pages, black and white, A5Edition of 50 $11AUD + postage, buy here

I started a little publishing thing, Particle Books. The first thing I’ve put out is some of my own work on possums, but I’m currently looking for artists to work with to publish their work.

particlebooks:

Winter, Possums by Felix Wilson
28 pages, black and white, A5
Edition of 50 
$11AUD + postage, buy here

I started a little publishing thing, Particle Books. The first thing I’ve put out is some of my own work on possums, but I’m currently looking for artists to work with to publish their work.

Sep 27, 2014
Fitzroy Gardens, dusk.

Fitzroy Gardens, dusk.

Sep 26, 2014
Stump, Fitzroy

Stump, Fitzroy

Sep 26, 2014

Cat food, Collingwood

Sep 25, 2014

Privilege of Being by Robert Hass

Many are making love.  Up above, the angels

in the unshaken ether and crystal of human longing

are braiding one another’s hair, which is strawberry blond

and the texture of cold rivers.  They glance

down from time to time at the awkward ecstasy—

it must look to them like featherless birds

splashing in the spring puddle of a bed—

and then one woman, she is about to come,

peels back the man’s shut eyelids and says,

look at me, and he does.  Or is it the man

tugging the curtain rope in the dark theater?

Anyway, they do, they look at each other;

two beings with evolved eyes, rapacious,

startled, connected at the belly in an unbelievably sweet

lubricious glue, stare at each other,

and the angels are desolate.  They hate it.  They shudder pathetically

like lithographs of Victorian beggars

with perfect features and alabaster skin hawking rags

in the lewd alleys of the novel.

All of creation is offended by this distress.

It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes,

rising.  The lovers especially cannot bear it,

it fills them with unspeakable sadness, so that

they close their eyes again and hold each other, each

feeling the mortal singularity of the body

they have enchanted out of death for an hour or so,

and one day, running at sunset, the woman says to the man,

I woke up feeling so sad this morning because I realized

that you could not, as much as I love you,

dear heart, cure my loneliness,

wherewith she touched his cheek to reassure him

that she did not mean to hurt him with this truth.

And the man is not hurt exactly,

he understands that his life has limits, that people

die young, fail at love,

fail of their ambitions.  He runs beside her, he thinks

of the sadness they have gasped and crooned their way out of

coming, clutching each other with old, invented

forms of grace and clumsy gratitude, ready

to be alone again, or dissatisfied, or merely

companionable like the couples on the summer beach

reading magazine articles about intimacy between the sexes

to themselves, and to each other,

and to the immense, illiterate, consoling angels.

Sep 24, 2014
Yosa Buson (1716-1783), translated by Robert Hass (1941-).

Yosa Buson (1716-1783), translated by Robert Hass (1941-).

Sep 23, 2014
From Le Rayon Vert (The Green Ray), directed by Eric Rohmer.Senses of Cinema has so much great reading on Rohmer: http://sensesofcinema.com/category/eric-rohmer-dossier/

From Le Rayon Vert (The Green Ray), directed by Eric Rohmer.
Senses of Cinema has so much great reading on Rohmer: http://sensesofcinema.com/category/eric-rohmer-dossier/

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