Apr 13th, 2013
I wrote about Poppy* the other day. I had not meant to; at least, I had not sat down at my desk with her in mind. But as I nosed out a research theme, her stories brimmed up in connection. When later I reviewed what I had written, I wondered what she would think to [...]
Jan 20th, 2013
This afternoon as I strolled home, I found a feather in my path. I often pick up the feathers that find their way near my feet. They are small objects of beauty (and easy to carry home). This feather was special. Around my local area, and out on the reserve where I run, I see [...]
Oct 24th, 2012
I’ve spent many a paper now telling tales of sh*t happening in the field. Similarly, I often confess to crying. ‘Sh*t happened, I cried’ is possibly my niche ethnographic genre. Last night, as I made a start to a conference paper, I found myself weaving another such tale of sh*t and tears. It was the [...]
Oct 5th, 2012
Language is a haphazard thing. Words are untrustworthy, twisting, tricksters. Saussure was perhaps an over-hopeful man. The other day I caught up with a Melburnian friend. We sat outside and she nibbled at a slice of pizza while chatting to me about destruction. Destruction. Boom. Bang. Crash. She’s gone a bit morbid since I last saw [...]
Sep 28th, 2012
So here I am in Melbourne once again. It’s a city I’ve never much understood; a place I’ve found too flat and too populous to sink comfortably into. And this morning it has obliged with a thunderstorm. Out of the village and into the city. I have left the field. As the jetlag fades and [...]
