Moving with time’s currents
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.
Thinking Allowed
Getting ready for the apocalypse party
Getting ready for the apocalypse party
Hopes for the future got Liz Breslin thinking about the apocalypse.
Entitlement in the group chat
Entitlement in the group chat
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.
Plucking out a few falsehoods
Plucking out a few falsehoods
It’s funny the things we learn and perpetuate until we take the time to really look, writes Liz Breslin.
The art of the introduction
The art of the introduction
As a child I understood that a firm handshake with eye contact was an excellent way to introduce oneself, writes Liz Breslin.
Sharing allowed
Sharing allowed
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.
Concerning communications...
Concerning communications...
Liz Breslin has a concern. . .
Appeals of the bus abound
Appeals of the bus abound
First of all there’s the matter of departure times. Before that, though, there’s the packing, writes Liz Breslin.
When an argument is a croc
When an argument is a croc
I was away from school the day they taught us about logical fallacies, writes Liz Breslin.
Across the threshold
Across the threshold
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.
An invitation to the tower
An invitation to the tower
A writer’s life. It’s not all ivory towers or garrets with gloves.
Go, go to the beach
Go, go to the beach
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.
Wanaka’s wonderful week
Wanaka’s wonderful week
Six things Liz Breslin loves about Wanaka's Festival of Colour.
Dispatches from the fringes
Dispatches from the fringes
Someone made a week for me last week. Well, it was more like some LOTS - the organisers, volunteers, actors, directors, costumers... everyone who came together to make Dunedin Fringe Festival, writes Liz Breslin.
An entire colonnade
An entire colonnade
"They called you ‘Famous Hawea Writer Liz Breslin’," said my girlfriend. Who did? Am I? After I got off the phone I got under the duvet and stayed there a while.
A mother who counts the months
A mother who counts the months
It’s been another week where people I love have lost people they love and are feeling lost themselves, writes Liz Breslin.
Taking up residency in a blizzard
Taking up residency in a blizzard
My screen time is up 46%. I have divested myself of Facebook, cancelled my ongoing TradeMe favourite searches and turned off my notifications. And yet, my screen time is up 46%, writes Liz Breslin.
Liz Breslin: If the shoe fits
If the shoe fits
I was planning to write about the train. I had an excellent time on the train. Everyone, IMHO, should take a Sunday trip on the Seasider and nobody should open their emails afterwards. And they...
Little boxes, little boxes
Little boxes, little boxes
There’s a stretch of road leaving Wanaka where if you look to the left you see small square boxes floating on the lake, and to the right you see THIS IS A WORK SAFE WORK SITE FOR SALE, writes Liz Breslin.
Pain’s many faces
Pain’s many faces
The thing about this is that I’m thinking in bursts. I need to not think about it but there’s nothing else I can think about, writes Liz Breslin.