Blog
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Humour and pathos form the pivot upon which spins Megan Twycross’s play, Stuck. Ultraviolet light, a polyurethane curtain, refrigeration that resonates as a butcher’s bandsaw, stainless steel, and two female deli employees processed by the supermarket aisle are invitations to enter a staid world, within which Old One and Young One are sandwiched between two… Read more
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Not long after I moved into the rooming house there was a problem with the hotwater service. Out of their rooms they came: The Swine, Vladimir the Caretaker, and Bruce. While the other tenants postulated, Bruce proposed a flashlight. “A flashlight…?” The Swine said. “What are we gunna do with a flashlight?” “Well…” Bruce said.… Read more
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These blasted brushes have their bristles falling out into the ink, and where the devil is the new consignment of butterfly scrolls? No, stop, it doesn’t bear transcribing all this, you nitwit, it will only have to be crossed out later. And just as we were broaching a significant point in the temporal flow: the… Read more
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The sweet smoke bathed everything in a black light, turned even the sun black, which cast down its inky rays upon an ashen desert dotted with blasted stumps and the remains of unidentifiable beings. And it was as though a miasma arose from the earth to meet the ghastly light, some dark cloud arising. Finally… Read more
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The fleeting glimpse he had gained of a young fair-haired woman through the half-opened doorway to the inner sanctum of the Jade Phoenix had nagged at the detective. Of late, Chinese camps were acquiring a reputation among certain of the Wimmera youth for the unwholesome diversions they afforded. Alluring as these places may have appeared… Read more
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