posted 25 days ago
Awakening to the laughter of kookaburras. The chilly evenings of the Queensland winter return to the daytime heat and humidity that out-swelter the summer of my regular environment. A pile of Sunshine Coast newspapers lies beside me, all torn open to the two-way crossword and sudoku puzzles that I devour.

My partner’s gone down to Brisbane for one last night with her friends but I decided to stay back and enjoy a quiet night to myself on the Sunshine Coast. I’ve spent quite a bit of time here, in this house with a clever open-plan design and lots of screen doors overlooking the very green hillside. The in-laws; I think of the Peter Falk/Alan Arkin classic or the many cultural stereotypes but none of it applies to me. My in-laws are all about feng shui, an electric hob, a borrowed espresso machine.
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My partner’s gone down to Brisbane for one last night with her friends but I decided to stay back and enjoy a quiet night to myself on the Sunshine Coast. I’ve spent quite a bit of time here, in this house with a clever open-plan design and lots of screen doors overlooking the very green hillside. The in-laws; I think of the Peter Falk/Alan Arkin classic or the many cultural stereotypes but none of it applies to me. My in-laws are all about feng shui, an electric hob, a borrowed espresso machine.





I’d never say that J.G. Ballard was one of my favorite writers and I don’t think you could get me to defend his prose style under any circumstances. But his influence on art, literature and film (which have in turn influenced me) is incalculable. There’s been a deluge of tributes, blog posts, and other articles since his passing last week and I don’t really have anything to share myself to really justify this post. But in grad school, through the provocations of his detractors I found myself finally connecting with his ideas.
