September 11, 2010

I am in Albury for the Write around the Murray festival which is disappointing so far.

It doesn't help that I am suspicious of people who think of themselves as Writers (they seem to know how to think it with a capital W). There is only writing. It's all writing. It doesn't really matter where. And it is *only* writing. It seems tedious to have to repeat some of the same things I have already said - ad nauseam - about art, but there you are.

The lowlight of the festival up to now was the beef at dinner last night. I am truly sad they killed a cow for this....? It would be better to bury it - with full rites - instead of eating it. The highlight was being called a wanker by a famous Children's Author over dinner. But what can you expect from someone who barracks for Collingwood. I think about the death of the author. I should have tore her a new one. This is a new expression I learnt this weekend, apparently it is a popular Australian vernacular but I had not heard it before. At least I learned something!

When I start typing 'Australia', my phone thinks I want to write 'Auschwitz'.

I am suspicious of publishers too. Especially publishers with a capital P. But what about Barry someone - one half of YoYo publishing? Among the titles they publish is A Funeral Celebrant's Handbook by Barry someone else. The other Yo wore a skirt much shorter than she should and a large diamond. She didn't say anything but busied herself rearranging the pile of books on the table as Barry spoke.

But Chris Masters was good.