It’s been one and half years since I wrote anything in this space. 18 months. 530-odd days. If this silence means anything at all, it would be mean one and half years of static and of feeling like there weren’t any tales worth telling here on Tiger Bomb Tales. The mountains I last wrote about are stillRead more
Paul is collecting fallen twigs from beech trees, the dense dwellers of the Tarurua Range. He is building a morning fire in between a pile of rocks on one of the islets of the Atiwhakatu River we are lingering on. It’s not a necessary fire. The sun is strong today and we are sheltered fromRead more
Hello, Mother Nature. I am getting to know you well here in these pieces of land hanging off the bottom of your swollen body. You’ve taught me it is possible for all of your beauty and, occasionally, all of your tragedy to fit into a country the size of your bellybutton. In America, you’ve birthed placesRead more
I wrote this piece for the “Tirohia Mai: Look at Us Now” exhibition featuring stories about the historical and modern women of Aotearoa New Zealand. The exhibition opens at the National Library next Monday 17 June. I am straddling life again. Living in the fringes of a country that exists on the edge of theRead more
Paul: You should write another blog post. Me: Yeah, I know. I feel like I have been so whiny in my last couple of posts. Paul: Yeah. [pause] You should write a new post apologizing about that. …. Sooo, sorry. My bad. That being said and (minor) sarcasm aside, I wanted to share one ofRead more
The tangled tree in my front yard is alive. The winter is coming and the wind is blowing its southerly whispers, sending icy secrets into the world. But the tree will not listen. It’s not blooming anymore. I missed most of its bursts of coral flowers this year — busy sweating and wandering around theRead more
Whelp, it’s a gorgeous Sunday in Wellington. I spent the morning down at Princess Bay throwing the rugby ball around with Paul and reading some hilarious yet insightful essays by David Foster Wallace on the beach. Ate a seafood pie for lunch, and let pastry and creamy chunks of crab and mussels drip down myRead more
After spending so much time in SE Asia, the word “expat” started to take on a fairly creepy meaning. If you’ve been to Vietnam (or any other Asian or developing country), you’ve seen them. White men. Somewhere between the ages of 50 to 65 years old. Big bellied. Almost always smokers and readily spotted atRead more
For the past three months, I lived a big, free, happy, unusual life. Now, I am back in New Zealand. It’s a beautiful Autumn day in Wellington. The sun in shining. There is a light, crisp breeze running through the cleanest air I have ever known. A perfect day. And I must go to theRead more
So much to say. So little time to tell it in. So I won’t. Only this. Four days left. I am melting in Saigon. Hot, sweaty and oozing of love. Looking forward to the coming winter in that island country in the South Pacific and to bundle up with the same, delicious sorts of things.Read more