Thinking Allowed

If you want to read something right now that is complimentary about high-ranking scientologist Thomas Cruise Mapother IV, please don’t read this, writes Liz Breslin.

Kia ora and welcome to the latest newsletter from Te Tokenism, writes Liz Breslin.

Australia has just funded Trikafta, and Cystic Fibrosis NZ is urging Pharmac to negotiate with manufacturers to agree a ‘fair and reasonable’ price for what an Otago teen calls "a magic drug."

It was the juxtaposition of Serious Concern for The Markets with a segment about Ukrainian women home-making Molotov cocktails that really got me this week, writes Liz Breslin.

I’ve been writing this column maybe eight years now and I’ve written about a lot of the things and the places and the people and the ideas that affect me, writes Liz Breslin.

I'm too sentimental. I can find myself thinking, legs flapping either side of my board, that the ocean doesn’t have the water for even half enough tears. But there’s always the next wave and the occasional sea lion, writes Liz Breslin.

I used to tell the time by dandelion. Blow the filaments tactically while holding the kind of juicy, kind of slimy, kind of sturdy stem. One stubborn star would hang on making it later and later and later as I blew.

I have just had my second Covid vaccination and I am lying in bed watching Wild, Wild Country, a documentary about Bagwhan Rajneesh’s commune in Oregon, a tale of devotion, salmonella and blended beavers, writes Liz Breslin.

As a child I understood that a firm handshake with eye contact was an excellent way to introduce oneself, writes Liz Breslin.

A beach is an excellent thing to have in a day. A beach and a walk, so much the better. A beach and a walk and coffee and stories. Well then. Kind of the best.

Liz Breslin has a concern. . .

First of all there’s the matter of departure times. Before that, though, there’s the packing, writes Liz Breslin.

I thought it would be easy to find out the definition of "threshold", but it turns out that not even Google really knows, writes Liz Breslin.

A writer’s life. It’s not all ivory towers or garrets with gloves.

When you’re tired, go to the beach. When you’re happy, when you’re bereft. When you’re hopeful. Go by car, go by bike, get a bus, go on foot, writes Liz Breslin.

Six things Liz Breslin loves about Wanaka's Festival of Colour.