A woman sits on a rock, looking out towards the ocean.

Amateur poetry readings in lockdown

Much of Australia has recently been in, or are still in, lockdown — including me in Perth. I was directed to work from home on Monday (it’s now Sunday again as I write this) when initial restrictions were reintroduced. And I managed to get a masked gym session in just before Premier Mark McGowan called an 8pm press conference (never a good sign) to announce that Perth and Peel would enter a four-day lockdown. Which we’re now out of, albeit with some restrictions in place.

Sydney, on the other hand, is still in the middle of their lockdown. 😦 That city owns a piece of my heart, so I decided to read “To Sydney”, a poem by Louise Mack, for LibriVox.

Listen to Short Poetry Collection 217 on LibriVox.

My oral interpretation of “The West” by Francis S. Borton is also in that collection, which is made up of 44 poems read by various volunteers.

Text reads: 12 months of whatever this is... and counting. Background contains fingers typing on laptop keyboard.

12 months of whatever this is… and counting

I started this blog about a year ago, not really knowing what it was trying to be… and I’m pretty sure I’m still just talking crap most of the time. I don’t follow any of the “rules” of blogging, like maintaining a consistent schedule or focusing on a niche (unless I’m the niche, haha). But I’m enjoying what I’m doing so I’ll continue. Lucky you, dear reader. 😛

We’re also coming to the midway point of the calendar year, so I thought I’d preview/tease the second half.

For the past few years, people have asked me burning questions like, “How’s your writing going?” and “When can I read your book?” and I can now finally say the answer to the latter is…

Well, actually, I don’t have a release date yet. We’re thinking a few weeks before Christmas — I’ll update y’all in due course. I’ve decided to go with independent publishing for reasons I’ll talk about another time, but I’m very comfortable with my decision.

But there’s still a lot to think about. Like marketing. Different formats. Who to thank in the acknowledgements. The idea of talking about myself while suppressing the desire to faint. Getting a new Mental Health Care Plan from my doctor so I can cry to a psychologist about what an imposter I am for thinking I can write and publish a book.

Just kidding. Mostly.

It’s all a bit nerve-racking but also super exciting. Hopefully some of the people who have asked about my book go on to actually buy the book. No one owes me anything, of course. But I would very much appreciate it. 😉

Text reads: Living in a teetotal paradise. Background contains 3 colourful cocktails in glasses.

Living in a teetotal paradise

Recently, I got an email from the Dry July Foundation — as I’d previously donated to them — inviting me to step up and take the Dry July challenge myself this year.

Dry July is a fundraiser in which participants give up alcohol for a month to raise money for services for people affected by cancer.

All well and good, except that… I don’t drink alcohol. And I suspect I’ll have trouble getting anyone to sponsor me to do exactly what I do every day of the year.

But in a country where drinking has traditionally been part of the culture, I’ve been asked plenty of questions about this over the years. So to summarise…

No, I’m not a recovering alcoholic.

No, it’s not against my religion.

Yes, I get “Asian flush” if I drink.

Yes, maybe I’d be less anxious if I drank. And maybe I’d be worse. Regardless, I’m not going to.

No, I don’t care if you drink in front of me. (Though if I get the sense you’re about to do something regrettable, I might just leave before I have to witness it.)

I did used to drink a bit. Like one or two drinks if I went out or something. Mostly to fit in, and mostly sweet things that didn’t really taste like alcohol.

A few years ago, I came to the conclusion that fitting in is overrated, and if anyone has an issue with me opting not to drink — there are some folks out there who take it really personally for some reason — then that’s their problem.

So yeah. You do you, and I’ll do me. 🙂

Now, if by chance anyone would actually donate money to see me live my normal life, let me know. 😉

Black headphones on a black surface.

My speaking voice and Henry Newbolt

Those who know me in person know I don’t really say much. Which means hearing my speaking voice is a genuine rarity. 😀

But I recently joined LibriVox, where volunteers from around the world record audio versions of public domain texts. For funsies, I decided to take part in LibriVox’s Weekly Poetry project, which on this occasion consisted of 25 readers recording a Henry Newbolt poem.

Listen to “Outward Bound” by Sir Henry Newbolt at LibriVox.

I’m number 16 😉 — but you should totally check out how everyone else interpreted the same poem.

Obviously I sound different in a conversation than I do when reciting a poem. Or do I? Who even knows? 😛

Anyway, this and any future recordings I might do for LibriVox can be found on my LibriVox page.

Text reads: The mask giveth and the mask taketh away. Background contains someone holding a cloth face mask.

The mask giveth and the mask taketh away

I don’t know if you’ve ever attempted to do a HIIT workout while wearing a face mask, but I probably won’t be trying that again.

Technically I was doing vigorous outdoor exercise far away from everyone else in the park, so I would have been exempt from wearing a mask under current restrictions in Perth. But I wanted to show that I wasn’t a pussy who couldn’t hack it.

Turns out I am a pussy who can’t hack it. 😛

But I have managed a couple of (less intense) masked workouts in the gym since they reopened and I was okay. And the Premier has announced an easing of mask restrictions from this weekend so I won’t have to wear one at the gym anymore.

I don’t mind the mask too much when I’m not exercising though. I mean, I don’t love it. It can be uncomfortable and it’s annoying when my glasses fog up. But given a choice between wearing masks and going into lockdown, I’d take the former.

Besides, some people have had to wear a mask every day for over a year and counting, so I can imagine what they’d think of me whinging about my face being sweaty as I go on with my life almost as normal.

And if I’m having an acne breakout, the mask makes me look like a stylish ninja instead of a hormonal hot mess. 😉 Although some breakouts can be linked to mask wearing. The mask giveth and the mask taketh away. I’m sure that’s in the New International Corona-Version of the Bible or something…

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I feel lucky (in spite of my anxiety disorder and lack of stamina). Things could have gone very differently, but we’ve been fortunate in Australia. Which is not to say things don’t desperately suck for a lot people. But it’s not sucking because bodies are being piled up in the street for mass cremation while hospitals run out of oxygen.

I know I have a habit of catastrophising, but it’s not like I’m pulling that scenario out of thin air. 😦