Fiction Short Story — It rained hard in big fat drops. Flagellating Owen’s flannel shirt as he ran across the main road away from his Holden, the back door left open. Carloads of people he knew were still on the piss, lazing in the centre parks in the middle of the main street, though…

Fiction short story — I. On The Run Mary rolls a cigarette from a new pouch of Park Drive. Too moist. Bits of tobacco stick to sweaty fingers. She wipes them on the scratchy settee. The Bella Vista is the fifth motel in as many weeks. The room is perfectly square. The beige curtains are shut against the…

End-of-year roundup — Ten insights gleaned from a year of learning and growing Don’t try to convince anyone about anything It’s a waste of energy. We walk in our own shoes. And beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Such a relief to just let people come to their own conclusions and make their own mistakes. Let them eat cake. Stop listening…

Poem — She wore a red dress as tight, as a fire hose. And over her tattooed calves white pantyhose, the kind worn by a flower girl. Her name was Bonnie curvy and young peaches and cream, wild-horse eyes ready to scream. My tummy clenched. For I knew, I knew. You would…

A problem-solution piece inspired by the how-to relationship book Fascinating Womanhood by Helen Andelin — Fascinating Womanhood by Helen Andelelin was first published in 1965 during the women's rights movement when women demanded equal rights and men enjoyed free love; around when the pill came out, and you know the rest, women can do everything and have it all. A woman without a man is…

How spontaneity can alter your destiny. — A routine is good. Everyone says so. But the universe responds to spontaneity The universe perks up when you go outside your bounds. The universe goes, ooh what’s that person doing, and zooms in on you and scrambles with the levers and knobs to create a new reality tunnel. Synchronicities…

How to be, in the big wide world — Waitressing was my bread and butter for a decade. I started young in the infamous resort town of Queenstown New Zealand at a joint called Avanti. Avanti sat in the heart of the mountain village and there I learned how to make cappuccinos and carry plates and flip pancakes and…

It is a childhood stealer — The answer is no, you cannot have your own phone. No matter the needling, wheedling, veiled threats, stroppy stomping, social blah blah, or the promises of obeying rules or even the security of knowing where they are if something should happen — the answer is an adamant no. No, you…