Menu
Scroll to top
Latest

The truth about Bono Weiner

The first day of winter and Rocky and I mark this change of seasons at the end of the St Kilda pier, sitting together near the rocks behind the kiosk, both of us looking out across the fog-covered still grey water of the bay, out to the shadowy container ship on the horizon. Rocky is  […]

Philip Roth On Acland Street: Part 11

I read The facts  sitting in the armchair in front of the wall of bookshelves in the study upstairs. The room overlooks the park which Rocky and I sometimes cross, along the gravel path past the playground of swings and climbing installations, down to the oval where on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, we stop for a […]

Philip Roth on Acland Street: Part 1

Rocky and I left the beach and walked to Readings bookshop on Acland Street. The wind blowing into Rocky’s face made him look like he was flying. Acland street on Sunday morning was  not congenial, crowded with visitors looking for I know not what, there along the rows of same as each other cafes and clothing shops. In […]

The Boats on Station Pier: Part 11

In what was essentially a childish gesture I know, having made sure that I did not have commitments that would foil my plan, Rocky and I sat on the grassy sand dune at Albert Park beach, more or less in silence but for an occasional exchange of views about whether or not we should walk […]

About this blog

Just another Crikey Blogs weblog

The Boats at Station Pier: Part 1

Some mornings, if the day is not crowded with obligations, Rocky and I walk down past the St Kilda shoreline which ends, if the tide is out, in a sand bank that goes almost all the way to the small boats anchored along the old wooden jetty that runs at right angles to the St Kilda pier.

You never walk alone

Morning is Rocky’s favorite time. I wonder whether it is mine? They have changed me, no doubt, these mornings with Rocky. I rarely contemplate a morning with no sunrise, a dawn without me. My first thought when I wake up, Rocky there beside the bed in the darkness, his white -patched chest and white beard […]

Remembrance of things past

There was a gale blowing this morning and the sky was covered in dark grey, almost black clouds. The water was dirty green and the waves were angry looking, topped with dirty white foam. The sand looked like it was covered in acne, dull brown and pock marked from the rain of the night. We […]

A dog’s life

There was a sign in the vet’s waiting room, the first thing I saw, there above the stand of expensive dog and cat food–$40 for a three kilo bag. The sign was in big red letters, suggesting certain danger if left unread. It was designed, I felt, to impress upon me, as if I didn’t already […]

When You’re a Stranger

Rocky does not believe in the bogey man. He sees the world as a benign and in general, non -threatening place.  A threatening world in which at every turn, the Stranger–or the Other–lies in waiting is a human world, and in the main, Rocky has resisted its attractions.  This is despite the fact that there have been incidents in […]

What’s in a Name

In public, when I want him to come to me, I always call Rocky by one or other version of his name– for instance, Rock or  Rockstar or even Rockette. Rocky is by now well known in our neighborhood, especially on the stretch of the bay from Brighton to Albert Park, a distance of close to […]