Titirangi Storyteller

Telling tales from around the world

Archive for September 2012

The Morning of the Following Day

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The girl in front of me
just sniffed her armpit.
She was out dancing last night
and drinking
and met some guy
went back to his place
and took off her clothes
and did the nasty
but they were too drunk
for it to be any good
and the second time
he couldn’t get it up.
This morning she wanted
to puke when she saw
how he held his toothbrush.
She’ll be home soon
and she can stand in the shower
until the water runs cold,
until the stink of it all
is washed away.

Yeah, I was sitting on the bus. And she did. And the story just came as they sometimes do, from out there somewhere. Good thing I had my notepad in my bag…

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27/09/2012 at 12:27 am

If only I were on safari

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I admit this one is more than a bit inspired by David Lloyd’s Flick of the Tail shot, which was honoured in this years Wildlife Photographer of the Year. But it’s not so much the elephant’s tail as that this elephant’s tail is at our local zoo, and Lloyd’s giraffe tail shot was done on safari in Africa – and that is what I am longing for.

I am so very restless these days…

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25/09/2012 at 11:44 pm

Sunset at Muriwai

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Though it wasn’t an especially good day for a sunset, I still got a pretty nice sunset photo. I just love the reflections in the little stream that flattens as it finally makes its way from the hillside to the sea.

Sunset gets all the praise, but to be honest, I often think the most beautiful moments come after the sun has set, when the last rays cling to the darkening sky. Like this…

Just like this…

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25/09/2012 at 1:43 am


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Sorry I’ve been off for a wee bit. Not sure why, just very busy with all sorts.

Made a visit the other day to the Gannet Colony at Muriwai Beach. shot this with my new 70-200mm lens, with the 2x extender. It’s soooo big… and is just an amazing lens. Of course the gannet is amazing too. You don’t get a sense of scale hare, but his wingspan is nearly 2 metres across (6 feet). They glide so elegantly.

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24/09/2012 at 8:40 am

Busy being dead

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Wandering through an old neighbourhood in Bari, Italy a few years ago on a hot hot summer day. We browsed the shops, explored the narrow streets and curious piazzas and stopped in on all the churches. (I am on a mission to find all the Marys I possibly can… and Italy is literally the mother-lode.) As the afternoon wore on, my husband had had enough of churches, so by the time we made it to the Bari Cathedral, he opted to sit in the plaza by himself and watch the local children kicking a ball against the outside wall of the church.

I went in alone. The interior was cool and quiet, and typical of southern Italy. I found a very charming Mary in the apse, one of my favourites of all time. (I blogged an image of her here, one of my early days learning Photoshop things – a bit overwrought, I’m afraid, but she is still delightful.)

I was ready to leave when I noticed an arrow pointing down the stairs to the crypt. Possibly one of the more grisly places I have  been – dozens of mini coffins containing bundled bones and occasionally other bits and pieces of saints and religious notables. There was a large, gated off area which appeared to be mostly 24 carat gold and white marble, containing the remains of a bishop.

I made my way to the other side of the crypt and came upon what could only be described as a macabre inspiration for Sleeping Beauty’s glass coffin. At first I thought it was a statue, or life-size doll, but it seems it is the desiccated remains of Colomba di Sens. She was a virgin martyr, born in Spain, somehow ended up in Gaul, who may or may not have been a converted witch. And ended up being beheaded. In 273. Over 1700 years ago. This is her ‘miraculously’ perfectly preserved body. At least this is what the information in the church claims – with no explanation as to how she got from France to Southern Italy – or more curiously, how her head is so perfectly reattached.

I was, and still am, fascinated by her. There is a story here, something strange and possibly quite awful – but the protagonists took their secrets to the grave with them. Shame this poor young woman wasn’t given the same courtesy. How dreadful to spend an eternity busy being dead. No rest in peace for this chick…

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16/09/2012 at 2:30 am

Hey, bud!

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I am endlessly fascinated by the palm tree. Though it is pretty standard in warm climates, I originated from a very cold climate and rarely saw an actual palm other than on television. And come to think of it, since we didn’t get a TV until I was 14 and my brother refused to let anyone else watch without his permission (he kept a loaded BB gun on his lap to enforce this policy) I’m not sure I saw any there, either. Other than a couple of forays to Florida, which involved more theme parks and contrived attractions than actually exploring the landscape, I didn’t really get up close and personal with a palm until I arrived in New Zealand.

The first time I saw a bloom, it was laying on the ground and I could not figure out what it was or where it came from. Later I saw them sprouting from the sides of the trunk and made the connection. This here is a bud in the late afternoon sun. It’s rather enormous, at least half a metre (20 inches). I just love everything about it…

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13/09/2012 at 11:36 pm

Cherub on high

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Not sure what brought this on… other than the ongoing sense of frustration lately at not feeling as creative as I ‘usually’ do. I sort of feel like I have photographed everything, that there is nothing in my world I have not looked at from every angle and there is nothing new to see. Of course I recognise this as a feeling, not a fact. The fact is, there are so many things in my world, in my very room, that I have not noticed or have not fully explored.

I shall chalk it up to transition, ever and ongoing, really. I suppose if we are not transitioning then we are dying – but… sigh… I vaguely recall believing in my youth that these transitions (or identity crises as we called them then) were something that we’d ‘get over’ when we grew and ‘became’ our adult selves. And while I am happy on  the highest level that this has proven untrue, and my adult self continues to evolve and change, on the lowest, day to day level – it can be a real pain.

But back to this wee lad, nothing real was moving me, so I had to go for the unreal, which, like a novel, often exposes bits of reality that reality is very good at hiding. Not sure what this guy is telling me, though.

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12/09/2012 at 1:01 am

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