My first experience of Dry July was in 2012. A trainer at my gym mentioned he was going dry for the month to raise funds for a cancer charity. Both sounded worthy causes, so I donated $20 to his fundraiser. Little did I realise it was the beginning of a long-term relationship with Dry July.
This story begins at the end. But my time spent observing your planet has taught me you humans like to process events and information in an orderly, if not entirely predictable, sequence. So forget the first sentence, and I'll serve you a linear tale. Just don't skip to the end and spoil it.
The candid photo of my son and wife in Sydney's Centennial Park was taken by a friend in March 2005. I had met Marie, and her husband, Drew, a retired couple, one weekend through a mutual park and dog-lover friend. My son was two-and-a-half and had long hair. And Marie dubbed him Christopher Robin.
Today is a glorious spring morning. Beams of light dapple the tiny insects scurrying in the dew. Flowers nod their sleepy heads. Flashes of sun peep through the garden to climb into a blue sky. Why do I have the feeling that today, for some reason, is not going to be a normal day?
I stare at the blank screen. The words aren't flowing onto the keyboard. Should I enter a working title? Or perhaps outline my plot and characters? Writer's block. Help! I tweet the writing community. "Take a break," is the first response. "We've all been there," reassures a published writer.
I was born in 1962, the same year as The Beatles released Love Me Do. Serendipitously, this is also the first song on my first Beatles record, The Essential Beatles, from 1972. Fifty years on, I have a collection of Beatles albums, books and DVDs. So, of course, I was keen to watch Get Back on Disney.
Terra Nullius by Claire G. Coleman opens at a brisk pace: "Jacky was running. There was no thought in his head, only an intense drive to run. There was no sense he was getting anywhere, no plan, no destination, no future. All he had was a sense of what was behind him, what he was running from."
The night became preternaturally dark, but still Elias kept moving. He had been walking for around four hours. When he stopped for a moment to look up, he could make out the lightless form of the mountain. A firmament of brilliant stars, the Milky Way, stretched across the sky.
In 2019, approaching the 30th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I found a timely book in a secondhand bookshop: The Berlin Wall, 13 August 1961 – 9 November 1989 by Frederick Taylor. The book inspired me to write about my contrasting visits to Berlin as a backpacker in 1987 and 1995.
It was a hot drink. Hands flaying, trying to disengage from his depraved grip, fighting off his unwanted advances. First and last date with this man. So, this is internet dating? Disparaged and feeling sorry for myself, I drove off. Nothing expected or implied. How simple? I was old enough to know the risks.
Product managers are highly sought after professionals in the tech industry. They have to have a variety of skills that not everyone has. You could become a product manager with a coding bootcamp online, but this doesn’t mean you will get the first job you apply to. That’s why you should prepare for the interview.
Covid-19 was the best thing that happened to my daughter. Her cocaine supply dried up, and she discovered she was an introvert. She turned twenty-four on the first of May, a May Day child without a cause. It was not always so. Dux in Year 10 and a black belt in taekwondo, before she fell prey to anorexia.
Forty-eight-year-old Corbett Thomas, a one-hit wonder of the 90s, now works as the lead sommelier at Napa Valley’s hippest restaurant. Set to become one of the few Master Sommeliers in the world, Corbett self-destructs during his final exam, ruining his last chance at recapturing the stardom of his youth.
When mum opened the passenger door, the dog, named Jessie, jumped up and straight onto Mim's lap, licking and wagging her whole body. Mim had a huge smile on her face. 'Mae, look who's here!' The little dog jumped through the car and onto the kid's lap. Mae was a bit unsure. Jessie was full-on.
Señora Gabriela is a respected storyteller. Her exact age is unknown, but it is years more than ninety. One warm afternoon, Señorita Margarita, a fourteen-year-old girl, spies on her. The girl knows it's wrong, but she wants to learn where Señora Gabriela hides her treasure chest of untold stories.
