Echoes of sun on water
In a gallery. On a boat. A year apart.
Latest
Familiar blues
Swimming in the same places, through similar feelings.
Bringing books back from the dead
In this issue: a celebration of recent reprints, opportunities to encounter "The President" in the wild, and a handful of recs.
“It makes me have zero regrets about not completing my PhD.”
An interview with Brendan McHugh about the collaborative effort to bring "The Butch Manual" back into print.
A swimming-pool pilgrimage
On a road trip, paying homage to swimming spots, in late-summer California.
Taking care of ghosts
When grief is like marine layer (and: slowing down in urgent times).
This certainly trumps a military parade
An inauguration for my novel, "The President".
Out in the world
A note from Northern California.
Meet The President
A sexy political thriller + a beautiful print = fundraising for the Pride Shelter
Things that have been helping?
Comforts, crutches, consolations.
The other end of autumn
And so the seasonal pendulum swings.
All the kinds of blue
Diving into my favourite colour. Also: swimming as remembrance.
Newsletter
Instead of avoidance
What if we saw difficulty as a koppie to scramble up?
Newsletter
Eating crumpets when visiting England as a child
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedis something I don’t remember. Nowadays, though, I make a point of it. Supermarket ones, toasted. With butter, maybe honey. This time, my husband suggested putting cream—yes, cream!— on the crumpets. Had never heard of that. Cream goes
Requiem for negronis
On loving — and letting go of — booze.
A snow-globe weekend
Inhabiting snow country for a hot minute.
Five years without Facebook
On attention, digital distraction, and finally embracing Freedom.
Slouching towards Christmas
With the obligatory gift guide, and some year-end favourites.
Newsletter
Mohair sweater weather
Falling into fall
Coming up for air
In between assignments.
When life gives you an artichoke
Yes, just one.
Meeting ourselves where we are
Not having sent out a newsletter in too long has been nagging at me like a fly against a windowpane. Perhaps its for this reason that illustrator/author’s latest missive (her 200th!) struck a particular chord: I send a text message to someone saying that I’m trying to
Feeling the blues
A swansong swim at Miller's Point.
While things fall apart
Read "Middlemarch"?