Word Less

Its funny, how I had four months off, and I decided not to write anything here.

Its funny, how I have to make myself write.

When you are in habit, you realise why you love what you love. Like fitness, regular hang outs with friends and loved ones. Writing. When you leave it be for a while you miss it, and you feel guilt for not investing. Funny thing, guilt.

I met with a friend today. Him and his partner have been one of my major inspirations. His partner passed away last year and the forty years they shared together ended in this life for now. He has lived such a colourful life so far, and his partner’s life was similar so. The bond and the commitment is something I aspire to have. I hope to have. It was privilege enough to have witnessed it with others.

The love I have found, and that is growing, has the potential. And to even experience that is a gift.

Stop using short sentences Edwin. And stop talking in third person.

So again, I am no longer word less.

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I am only using the word ‘dappled’ cause I like it. And it makes me instantly think of sunshine gently seeping through bright, soft, green leaves, that have just stretched out into the breeze. Dappled light. And it is summer. And I have not spoken on here since Spring.

I no longer have a job, and I am on a hiatus I guess. Enjoying the time, which feels so wide and ever present, but then so brisk. Struggling to catch up, I tell myself I need to plan, need to make use of time. Then I try and remember Christmas, two weeks ago. And I do, and it was outside in the bush, with family and warmth. Then a stroll by the beach, where a dog said hello.

It is still sinking in, saying goodbye to my work family, and the unique and lucky ride I had there. But things will be OK.

The next few months are important. And a gift.



From a Distance

From here, I can trace the path in the distance, my finger carefully moving along where my feet will walk. If I walk that far. My mind has wandered there. I could look further in the distance to where I could now, I could look back to where I came from, to the point I stood now.

The figure, walking along in their red jacket, is wandering there. They can trace their finger along to where I am standing right now. They could imagine what it is like for the guy in the grey coat. The same coolness, the same sea beside both of us. If they walk this far.

I turn around and walk the other way. Back inside, out of the wind and rain. And the ants continue to stay underground. They asked to be mentioned.


Music Sunday – “May I Have This Dance” by Francis & the Light

You know those songs that make you have goosebumps all over your arms when you first hear it? This song did that for me. Instantly had many colourful music videos jumping inside my head. Be very curious to see if this brilliant artist has a fantastic video to match. He is very much channeling Phil Collins, which really is not a bad thing at all. Smile, it makes you happy.

Ute, the other half.

Remember when I drove behind you, and when you turned right, and I had to turn left? I watched your white ute escape the corner of my eye.

When you met me in Canberra for a Bush Dance, holding onto me wherever we went. I didn’t want to dance, but you grabbed my hand and pulled me into the sweaty crowd.  We muddled our way through the moves, laughing. Then holding your VB can and leaning onto my shoulder to tell me you loved me.

Remember when we stood over the mist, and you explained what was below the gray, asked me to imagine where the buildings were and where you spent your days,  you had your hands safely on my waist.

Remember waking up in the cottage, looking out as the sun poured in, over the pond. You would make me instant coffee, with honey, no milk.

When we were laying on my bed, and then you told me you already had someone in your life, the fear in your eyes and the worry of what that would do to me. You were ready to catch me in my sadness, and yours.

Remember when I met your other half for the first time. We sat in couches, and spoke of books we had read, and had a platter of cheese and sparkling wine. He was an intelligent, gentle and handsome man. Then we said goodnight to him, and we went to bed.

When I played that song, and you would burst into tears and hold me tight. Every time it played, you would do the same thing. “Its a Better Place Since You Came Along”, the words telling me that this is what you wanted. Me.

Remember when we would call each other, throughout the day. You would be eating tuna and crackers, I would be walking by the sea. I would learn about your customers, you would learn about my work. And he would be in the background, working beside you.

When we would talk of getting a house in the country. My own room to write in, and have a view of the world outside, sat at the beautiful old roll top antique desk you bought me. I still have the key for it, I wanted to return it. He said not to.

Remember the smell of the old Volvo, as we drove across the outback in the heat, no air conditioning. We had to shout to hear each other, the windows open, Adelaide panting on the backseat. I would take your hand, and I wouldn’t feel you grip mine.

When I said I would fly home, I couldn’t find you. You stood before me on the beach, but you weren’t there. You drove me to the airport and let me go home. The next day you drove 800 kilometers to my door, to hold me tight again. You were gradually ripping apart.

Remember surprising me for my birthday? He turned up the door, I said he could stay. Then you came from around the corner, you both brought cheese and sparkling wine again. The following day you remained while he drove up home, and we lay and watched the baking show.

When you text me suddenly, that you weren’t coping. Then went silent. I would call, you wouldn’t answer. I would text, and the man I knew, was overgrown by the silence.

Remember when I drove to a hotel near you, in the storm. I waited while the late news played in the background. All the power went out, I could see your headlights out on the road, as they came near. The gravel moved out of your way, the wind blowing inside as I watched your dark figure walk towards me. I couldn’t see your face, you couldn’t see mine. But I felt your sadness, you felt mine. We kept each other warm that night, as you let me in and talked for the final time.

Then we had no more talk of country living, or of tuna or customers. You went back inside the man I lost, and then when he nudged you, we spoke on the phone nine months since we met. You told me I deserved more,  I nodded, I did. The call ended, and the ringing in my ears is the silence that stayed with me.








In. Two. Minds.

  1.  I lose my job in three months.
  2. I have debt.
  3. I have heartache.
  4. I open up the news, its filled with fear.
  5. Family have told me that who I am is not right. Its wrong.
  6. I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I am drained and tired very often.
  7. I dont know who God is anymore.
  8. I try to write, and stop. I try to create, and pause.


  1. I can do anything I want next year. I can travel, I can write, I can take on new adventures with work.
  2. I have money to eat good food, live in a comfy home in a safe place.
  3. I have been loved, and loved. And will love again.
  4. I open up books, and there is so much hope.
  5. Family have told me that they love me no matter what. Friends fill me with joy.
  6. I am fit and healthy. Focussing on my health, also makes me mentally strong and happy.
  7. God is there. My faith is not dead. And will continue to discover.
  8. I write and keep going. I create and get to encourage others, usually when I don’t realise.


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So the Knitting has started

A project I have been working on, and of course I cannot take it seriously. Enjoy.


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Skunks and Coconut Coffee



I have been and gone. Travelled across North America, via car, boat, bus, plane and train. And it was incredible. It felt complete and I felt so relaxed, so inspired.

OK now the contrived sentences are out of the way…  I fell over onto a lady with my iced tea on the train, I was too scared to paddle board on the lake in Seattle, but redeemed myself in a much shallower lake (about 1 foot deep) later in the trip in Maine. I was given a T-shirt with my face printed on it as a gift. I wrote about 10 postcards, paid for postage, but then never posted them. I sat and watched San Francisco buses asleep at 1am, in their parking lot. I drank so many iced coffee and coconut milk beverages, I smell like a bounty with a hint of arabica beans. I read all the accreditation of the people from the cuddle shop in Portland, Oregon. I said hello to my first skunk by English Bay in Vancouver, and my first chipmunk at Crater Lake. We got along, to the extent I usually get along with wild animals.


I walked through a park at 9am on a Sunday in LA, and was the only one awake, and one semi-awake person dressed up like a Starbucks worker. I sat in a dining car travelling across North Dakota with an Amish couple, learning about their world. I filled my wallet with many one dollar bills, that I awkwardly pulled out and handed bar staff a lot. I read six graphic novels, for the first time. I slept on a sailboat in Seattle. I got to know my friend Jim much better, I got to know a black beetle more so. A cat and I exchanged sleepy nods in North California.

Now I am back. Many choices ahead, and do I get a puppy?

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Empty Lot.



The carpark sat there silently, beside the dark brick building. Inside the car, he merged with the faded vinyl seat. he wasn’t ready. Obedience is what was overpowering him. Guilt and obedience. Leaving the warmth of the car and many other secrets.

Knocking on the dull door, his acne scars is what he noticed first. Tony, in his 50’s. Walking in, he had expected to sit on a couch, to complete the cliche, but he was offered a seat in an old desk chair.  Throughout the session, he would sub-consciously he fiddled with the height adjuster, that ignored him, broken.

“Your mum has mentioned you wanted to talk”

“Yeah, I need to”

“That’s great to hear. Really good. The first step is the hardest, and you have already done that”

“I just dont know what the next step is.”

“That is where I come in. I have dealt with this many times, for many years. You can be rest assured you are not alone”.

Tony had the notepad. And the writing that he could not read upside down. I didnt want him writing things. Things I didnt know.

“I have worked through many different struggles with people, mate. From child sex offenders to prostitutes. I spend most my week in the prison system, so much change and reward there.”

I dont think he asked Tony for his CV. But it felt good to know he wasn’t alone, perhaps.

“Martin, I am sure it is all very overwhelming. We dont need to talk about everything all at once. Let’s start in one little corner.” Tony’s voice was calm, but the calm a pool closed for the winter would be, way too cold. Way too still. And this corner he spoke of, was where a naughty kid should be sent.

He swallowed. Then breathed. This is where he had to jump in.

“Well, I just have got to a point where I never want to hurt. Hurt anyone else, most importantly. And God has led me to be honest outside, not just inside.”

Here is where the lies were about to start.


Walking back to the carpark, did he feel any better? Mum was already back at the car. She had a slight smile on. “Don’t worry mate, you are doing the right thing”.

“It was fine Mum. I know it feels right.”

“Good mate, good.”

The slight smell of cigarette smoke hung there. Mum had been doing it again.

The car began moving onward to home. The steep hill made no difference to the speed. Cruising silently, there was a lot that could be said but the words lay inside. Each bend in the darkness, wrapped around them, mother and son.


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Music Sunday – “We Can be Friends” by Francis and the Lights feat. Bon Iver

Good to hear Bon Iver. Funky and different, I like. It will be playing high on my 2016 list.