Anna put her pint down with the careful violence of someone who had just found the problem hiding in plain sight. “Right,” she said. “We’ve been saying this wrong.” Adam looked up from his crisps. “Always a good sign when a sentence starts like a workplace investigation.” “No,” Anna said. “We keep talking about AI… Continue reading Truth IV
poem
No thing stands alone. All is relation. Distinction enables pattern. Pattern appears stable. Stability transforms. Nothing is kept. Nothing returns. It continues by holding.
Easter ’26
Marcin’s already halfway through a pint when Pete walks in, shaking snow out of his jacket like he’s trying to reset the weather. “World’s on fire again,” Mitch says, not looking up. “Proper one this time.” Adam snorts. “Every time’s a proper one. That’s the business model.” Pete orders, leans in. “You know what’s mad?… Continue reading Easter ’26
Snow
The storm had dumped two and a half metres of powder on the valley, the kind of biblical snowfall that made everyone equal parts ecstatic and stupid. The pub had filled with the kind of damp, rosy-cheeked skiers who believed hot chocolate and rum counted as hydration. Someone had already died almost twice — first… Continue reading Snow
The wet
The veranda boards were sweating. Not metaphorically. Proper tropical sweat. The kind that makes the timber tacky under your bare feet and turns a cold beer warm in the time it takes to complain about it. Out over the Whitsundays the sky had that bruised green look that says cyclone, not maybe, not someday —… Continue reading The wet
Dogs
Tony kicked sand off his foot and squinted at the sky like it owed him money.“They’d walked out of the pub mostly because the air-con was broken again and Tony said the carpet smelled like an old man’s regret. So they wandered down to the beach, half-pissed and half-sunburned, leaving behind the sticky tables and… Continue reading Dogs
Grey tint
The wind rattles the metal sign above the pub door, someone’s shoved a recycling bin too close to the entrance so the lid keeps knocking against the wall like it’s trying to get in for a quick one. Inside, the four of us are nursing pints that taste vaguely like someone washed the lines with… Continue reading Grey tint
Stalled
The four of them were wedged around the sticky table near the window, where a napkin kept fluttering up every time the draught from the broken door swept through. Someone outside had parked a 2006 WRX with a wing so big it could have been classified as renewable infrastructure. “Did you read that Burn-Murdoch piece?”… Continue reading Stalled
Nachos
Someone at the table was already halfway through a schooner and two bad ideas. “…sets, mate? You’re still on about sets?” “Not tennis sets, you clown.” “Well you said sets, and we’ve just had the bloody Australian Open shoved down our throats for three weeks. Every time I turned on the telly it’s some bloke… Continue reading Nachos
Bored games
Same pub, but later.The kind of evening where the light’s gone yellow and the wind’s picked up just enough to move rubbish along the footpath like it’s got somewhere important to be. A chip packet skitters past the window, followed by a receipt, then half a betting slip that refuses to lie flat. Inside, it… Continue reading Bored games
Ceteris Paribus 