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Posts from the ‘Works’ Category

how to read the stockmarket.

the knicker index

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the trek

We moored the Bona to the south of the harbour entrance in a well protected cove sheltered from the brisk south-easter that had propelled us up the coast

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lunching

days after the flood

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the ferret

we've had a bit of rain up here lately

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certain nuances of behaviour and taste that distinguish older surfers from the current age.

In latter days we were the masters of both our environment and the ability to choose music that defined our generation.

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two portraits –

Putin & Assad. Brothers in war.

Lismore

The floods came last night ..

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sandy nelson

everything got broken.

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The Apotheosis of War

‘Dedicated to all the great conquerors, present past and future.’

Vasily Vereschagin.

‘What is permitted to gods (me) is not permitted to cattle (you)’ Putin 2014

Cochran here …

I only write what I feel .. AC

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beach bounty

A bloke could wander up and down windswept beaches for half his life before finding one of these.

So I stuck it in the boot and brought it home. Later on that day I wondered what the stink was when I got back into the car to go get Friday night’s pizza.

 

existentialism and an email from dan webber – no relation to dewey

Header pic is of the late Dewey Weber, aka the little man on wheels.

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Lyon’s big six, the kid, Usman the Muslim, champagne and brown snakes

another day in australia

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A letter to ‘Sticks’ Perrottet, the (ex) Premier of NSW

I would like to apply for the soon to be advertised position of CEO of he RAT Audit and Fine Collecting Procedures Department.

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the old couple living next door

surf art

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cedric, raw prawns, garlic, lemon rind, parsley and pasta

Good tucker that.

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beach grit

Eyes down, a mile of deserted beach to walk

up and back.

Two miles.

With the sun being at its obliging best,

glinting,

on this half-hidden jewellery of sand-scrubbed shell,

fragile, transparent.

Years of abrasion, and never a foot to crush them.

Beaches are best when they are deserted, left alone,

for centuries.

three boys

Russell on the left, Wayne in the middle. No recollection of who took the photo, perhaps it was Wayne's sister, Danielle. Danielle. She who never showed an interest in the fifteen year-old boy gazing at the camera so intently

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not all board riders were boofheads – two bondi fables.

Certain nuances of behaviour could be observed last century when the membership congregated in the sun outside the polio pit

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The South Bondi Surfboard Riders Club Logo – updated yet again.

Getting that weapon  loose of the boardshorts would strangle a herniated prolapse.

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