A dull pressure
In my abdomen
Marks the moment
I saw stars.
Sticky sheets.
Afterward
I stick a pencil in my mouth
And pretend it’s a cigarette.
Every limb, every digit
Ignited and flared
And roared and subsided
And glows.
I catch my breath
From wherever it ran to
And stretch.
A satiated lioness,
For the moment.
It would be better
If you were here.
It would be better.
That photo has absolutely nothing to do with this post, I just thought it was pretty. I’m mega behind with my reviews. I think it’s coz I got out of the habit of writing them during that month where I read nothing but J D Robb. I haven’t actually finished all the in death books, but apparently my library doesn’t want to give me any this fortnight. Also, it’s my birthday soon, can someone please buy me a kindle?
I have actually had Fire
It’s not as good.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fantastic book. I found the concept of ‘Gracelings’ to be so fresh and original and the ‘Monsters’ in Fire are well executed new fantasy. But I didn’t get the point of the story. Maybe I was expecting it to be more of as precursor to Graceling than it was.
The plot twists and turns at a decent rate, moving the story along nicely, and the prose is easy and descriptive. I found it easy to visualise the scenes in this book and felt like I was right in the thick of the action. The actual twists though are not so um, twisty? – the mystery surrounding Cansrel’s death is figured out after a chapter or two if you have half a brain, and it’s quite obvious why Brocker got the boot from the palace (and the results of his actions). And the whole ‘oh dear, Archer knocked up two women at the same time, which one will he choose?’ issue is easily dealt with and you can see it coming a mile off. I felt like Cashore was writing to a formula – here are some loose ends. Tie them in a pretty but obvious way and lets get on with things.
If you haven’t read Graceling (shame on you), then go and get this book first. You’ll enjoy it, it’s a pretty story with enough action (both on the battle field and in the bedroom) to keep even the most discerning of readers interested. And the idea of the ‘monster’ animals is fascinating and well thought out – I hope they continue to feature in Cashore’s future work. And above all, if this is your starting off point, you’ll think Graceling
Clara’s album Indigo comes out today. You can hear the cute interview she did here – just click on ‘Audio – Clara Barker’ to the right of the screen. I’m so, so proud of my girl – she’s amazing!
I’m all excited because I have a newborn shoot with a friend’s nephew on tomorrow and next Tuesday, a maternity shoot with my friend Jen. Nervous too, but mostly excited. So a lot of my flickr favourites from this past week are girl portraits and baby shots! And just ignore the blank square – i didn’t notice until just now and I can’t be assed fixing it.
1. Ashlynne & Emmie, 2. Wanna ride?, 3. babe in the fields, 4. Baby C, 5. Tenby Point 20, 6. Rain Rain go away, 7. Hannah Senior Photos, 8. Engagement: Matt + Jana, 9. Engagement: Matt + Jana, 10. so she dances, 11. Untitled, 12. Light splash, 13. And even nature has to take her course., 14. So do we die or do we travel?, 15. Untitled, 16. sweet cheek, 17. “If you’ve never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower in spring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in bloom.”, 18. 41b/365, 19. They’ve learned empathy, 20. wild horses, 21. little shy fox, 22. ~with thanks, 23. post and run……., 24. The few that remain 8/365, 25. And away they go..
I stole this link from Winona, and it totally deserves another mention. (She also does awesome Tyra impressions.)
Jessica Kettle takes fabulous photographs – I love these of her best friend, they are so sunny and joyful (and the dress is amazing).
I am in love with fellow WA-ian, Karen Cheng and her blog Snippets of Life. She’s amazing, gorgeous and really down to earth (her cheong sam is Australian made. Can I show off by telling you mine is actually from China? Not that I’ve ever been, but a friend picked one up for me). Plus, her kids are adorable and feature regularly on her mostly style blog. Someone to aspire to, I think!
Another creepy-but-awesome thing I found – Chris Anthony. Check out the ‘Victims and Avengers‘ album.
I found Harmony Nicholas’ blog She Takes Photos through Mishka Mink and I’m v. v. glad I did. Speaking of Michka, have you seen this photo? The makeup is freaking amazing!
I. Want. This. (the ring, although I wouldn’t mind a nice romp with Spike) I don’t have the money though. I do own some Wendy Brandes pieces – see how I did that? Made it look like I have thousands of dollars of designer jewellery hanging around in my wardrobe? I don’t, I promise you, but her Woolf pendant in silver is my favourite necklace ever. And I wear it more than anything else i own – he’s so tiny and perfect. And while I’m going on and on about Wendy Brandes, can I just say she is the nicest person ever? I can? She’s the NICEST PERSON EVER. She’s like a totally famous blogger and she still takes the time to answer emails and comments and things. She’s just adorable (and looks about a third of her age).
Finally, I’ve been thinking about getting some contact lenses again – I’ve had green ones and purple ones before, but they ended up drying out. I had lots of trouble getting the damn things in, but this video tute (vute? lol) makes putting in these huge circle lenses look so easy. Plus, will you look at Violet’s eyes after she puts the lashes on? They are SOOO BIG.
This is cheating a bit – These shoes weren’t thrifted, but I love them so. The dress is grey and the shoes are black, so you’re not losing anything to black and white, I promise.
Dress – Mayday Op Shop
Shoes – Big W
Piano – Stolen from Mum
..at least a week since I posted a photograph of the baby.
Between home and Avalon’s daycare center (I know, I know, I’m a terrible mother coz I dump her at a center twice a week when I don’t even work and the government has to pay for it and shock horror i’m going to hell. blah blah.) there is a stretch of roadside scrub that has some absolutely gorgeous plants – if you are willing to get down low and scrabble in the dirt coz they are all about 1 ft high!
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I’ve been reading too much J D Robb. No other crime writer is half as enjoyable. So I’m writing my own trashy crime novel.
Prologue
The girl wasn’t sure what were louder, the thumps of her feet hitting the sodden ground, the beats of her heart close to bursting or the desperate sobs of her breath as she ran. There was a flash of pain in her foot as she trod on something sharp and when her next step failed her momentum flung her off balance and down into the wet bushes. She didn’t even have the breath to shriek as she went down. She put her hand to her fgoot and felt a cool wetness. Whether it was blood or water from the rain that had cleared earlier she didn’t know, but it hurt like hell.
It was hard to limp quickly, but she kept moving. The blood wasn’t so loud in her ears now and on the wind she could hear snatches of laughter and shouts. She couldn’t hear footsteps. Carly had run after her when she bolted, calling out with drunken amusement.
“It’s a game, Sonja, he didn’t mean it. Come back.”
Carly stopped at the tree line, turned back to the group with her hands in the air. Sonja knew the two men who has also followed her wouldn’t give up so easily.
She limped through the woods. The forestry department burnt the undergrowth away before each summer season, so she picked her way easily through knee high scrub and tried ignore the throbbing in her foot, punctuated by sharp jabs of pain. She had to keep going. No undergrowth meant there was nowhere to hide. She’d been hunting with her father once at this time of year, climbed into his truck yawning and arrived in the forest before the dawn. As the sun had spilled through the trees, her father had gestured at a group of deer, clearly visible even at a distance. All he’d had to do was raise the gun slowly to aim and – crack – the doe was down. He’d butchered it there and wiped his hands on the damp bracken. Sonja had felt sick then, staring at the bright blood against the green. Now she wondered if her own blood was falling, red and shining in the ferns.
She had noticed that all the sounds had stopped and had slowed her pace when a thin scream floated through the trees and made her jerk to a stop. The noise went on and on and Sonja could not tell if it was one person screaming for a very long time, or many screams that mingled together and got so jumbled over the distance that she could not tell one from another.
“Carly!” she choked out the name and her aching foot took an involuntary step back in the direction she’d come from. The scream, or screams, stopped with a chilling finality. Without realizing what she was doing, Sonja took off running again. In blind panic she barely missed trees and boulders as she ran away from the clearing with the manor house, away from the fire, away from her screaming friends and from the man she’d seen coming down the stair case. The man who’d been bloodied to the elbows, his hands caked in dark red with a dull splatter across his crisp white shirt.
“Sauce,” he’d said, when he’d seen her looking with her voice trapped in his throat.
“Just sauce.” And he’d licked his finger.
Sonja had run. She’d pulled at Carly’s arm and when her friend wouldn’t step away, she’d told her someone had grabbed her because she didn’t like how closely the man’s friends were listening in. She’d jabbed a finger at her crotch, letting Carly draw her own conclusions from the obscene gesture and Carly had laughed and pulled the sleeve of her sweater from Sonja’s grasp.
“It’s a frat party, Sonj, that’s what is meant to happen.”
And then the man had come outside wearing a clean shirt and with clean hands, but with a smudge of red at the corner of his mouth and Sonja had left her friend and ran.
It had been blood. Sonja’s family hunted – her father, her brothers, she’d even held the old gun herself. She’d rubbed her fingers along the dark wood and the well polished metal, felt the coolness of it against her cheek as she sighted and stiffened her arm against the retort when she’d fired. She’d missed that time, scattered the group of rabbits and been laughed at by her father. But she’d gotten better and once had shot a deer in the throat, stood over it as the blood pumped quick and hot out of the wound and onto the forest floor. She knew blood. She knew the thickness of it, the coppery smell. It had been blood all right and the man had lapped at it with his tongue while she’d watched.
In the darkness, in her desperate rush, Sonja was lucky she heard the river before she plunged over the edge of the cliff in the dark. She tried to peer over the edge from a step or two away, trying to judge the distance to the water below. It could have been a few feet or a ten-story drop from all she could tell. It was pitch black; The rain had only let up as her and Carly had arrived at the party and the clouds still had enough in them to block the stars. Sonja tried to think – what river was it? Did it feed into the lake? Should she follow it up, or down? She looked down again. It was too dark to see the water, but she could hear it, violent and swollen from the rain and crashing in it’s banks. She didn’t even know which way the water was flowing.
Standing still and indecisive at the edge, Sonja didn’t hear the man step out from behind the tree, but she knew he was there. She could smell the blood on him, fresh blood that hadn’t been washed away. It seemed she could feel the heat of him, the danger. He stepped towards her, one foot slow and then the other and cleared his throat.
Sonja didn’t wait for him to speak. Didn’t wait for those bloodstained hands to reach for her. She simply breathed in deep and launched herself as far out into space as her body would carry her, before she fell down and down and down and was swept away by the dark torrent.
The man didn’t look over the edge after her. He took a small flashlight from his jacket pocket, flicked it on and, whistling, strode back to rejoin the fun.
