Queues and stacks are familiar to anyone who has studied computer science. It struck me a while ago that, to my detriment, I organise my life like a stack. Writing fiction is at the base of my stack, and I only get around to writing (and painting & music to much lesser degrees) once I’ve accomplished everything on top. I really need to change my way of operating from a stack to a priority queue. Lifelong habits are challenging to break.
After a very tiring handful of years (deaths of loved ones and career chaos), I currently have enough bandwidth to resume my novel. My stack is practically empty, which is eerie – but, hey, I’m not complaining. Although re-entering the workforce is something I have to do soon enough, for now I’m aiming to get the first draft down.
For me, there’s always been more joy in producing than consuming.
I am, like many other people, strongly drawn to islands. I don’t quite know for certain why this is. As a kid, I was lucky enough to have annual coastal holidays with extended family – destinations with patrolled beaches, RSLs, and walking-distance cinemas. Awesome summer breaks, but probably not where the addiction began.
In my teenage years, the high school I attended took us to St Helena for a day to augment our local history studies; this not an uncommon excursion for kids in Brisbane. The same school had us camp on Peel Island a couple of times. Despite the unique beauty and fascinating recent history of Peel, these trips were not especially fun – more like chapters from Lord of the Flies. (Paul Dever, I am sorry I didn’t have more courage to stop the bullies. I owe you amends.)
I think I became an island junkie in my early 20s after spending a few months on Norfolk Island. Peaceful memories of night swims as coral spawned and walks through old pines looking for owls. It’s on Norfolk that I learned about the existence of Pitcairn and Lord Howe Islands. This was when the internet was an infant, when you still found most things out by talking to other humans or reading a book made of paper.
After Norfolk, I got real serious about my studies (academic and spiritual), and didn’t really travel much for a decade, save for some quick study-related trips to Europe, Israel and Japan. It wasn’t until I met Nicole in my early 30s that I re-engaged with islands. One of our first trips away together was to North Stradbroke Island, a place that holds ongoing significance to our family.
Since Jorja arrived in 2008 our island jaunts have become a dominant feature of our lives. Aside from frequenting the many beautiful places in our own backyard (Moreton, Stradbroke, and the Southern Moreton Bay Islands), we’ve been lucky enough to visit many gorgeous spots in the Pacific: Fiji, Vanuatu, New Caledonia, and Hawaii. We have plenty more places on the to-do list.
Being a geek, I can’t help but occasionally research why I am so enamoured. I read a lot of history books and have made islands the basis of my half-written novel. But, as yet, I have no definitive answer to the question of why? It would be derivative to conclude that I am a simple bloke and I find appeal in small, uncomplicated environments. It’s that, and a bit more. Islands bring me joy and a sense of calm. Maybe just because.
The new Staytrem bridge arrived in the post – yay! Installing it is something I could have attempted, but I gave the job to a local guitar tech. He did an amazing job: installed the bridge, adjusted the action and truss rod, replaced the jack, and nailed the intonation.
Everything went smoothly, except for the new strings from Stringjoy; the high E (.026w) runs short of windings – only the very thin core reaches the tuner. This E string didn’t survive tuning and intonation (it snapped), so we had to replace it with a makeshift from Ernie Ball. So, for now, I’m playing with a mixed set of strings.
Even though I have a couple of spare sets from Stringjoy – since I ordered a pack of three – they’ll easily fit my UltraCure VI when I next change strings. (Presently, the UltraCure is strung happily with a set from La Bella.)
The mixed strings on the Squier are not really a problem for me; I’m an amateur, after all. But when it’s time for replacement strings, I’ll try the new Fender Bass VI kind. I ordered and received a pack from Amazon, and I can confirm the high E string is sufficiently long. Re-doing the intonation will be necessary because of differences in gauge, but this job will be a breeze on the new bridge.
I am rarely moved to literal tears by works of fiction. This film floored me.
“Don’t you ever feel like you’ve just done a whole amazing day, and then you come home and feel tired and down, and it feels like your bones don’t work? They’re just tired and everything is tired. Like you’re sinking”
Sophie
I was doing okay until the final scenes. Watching, I felt very much in the crosshairs as someone who struggles more than he might let on. Someone who is increasingly overwhelmed by parenthood and close relationships. Someone who doesn’t quite belong; never will.
Exceptional screenplay. Beautifully acted and shot. Masterful use of space between the notes. I particularly enjoyed the Lynchian strobing, and am left wondering about the intermittent use of striped shirts. The rave is a prison? Samsara?
Lately, I have been trying to give my Squier Bass VI some much needed attention. (Haven’t played much since shifting house.) Cleaned off the dust, changed the strings, and polished it up. Mucked about with a few riffs, which reminded me how much I love playing, despite a tragic lack of musical ability. But the instrument doesn’t quite sound as good as it can…
The intonation of the low E string is a known issue, and I am planning to fix it with a wider bridge; I’ll post about that when it arrives. In the interim, I decided to upgrade the tuners. After hours of scouring guitar forums, I settled on a set of Gotoh SD91-MGT vintage locking tuners (thanks eBay). I’m a lazy person, and wanted a simple drop-in replacement set.
After taking off the old strings, removal of the stock tuners was an easy job with a small screwdriver. I thought I could get away with retaining the stock bushes, but I was wrong. I was somewhat nervous about removing the old ones, but found a straightforward way to do it: I have a nail punch that fit the peg holes nicely, and all six came out with a bit of gentle persuasion from a regular hammer.
Installation of the new bushes was a little nerve-racking. The new tuners didn’t come with a bushing tool, and some of the YouTube clips I studied suggested using a hammer to just whack them in. I opted instead to use a G-clamp as a makeshift press ($15 from a local hardware store). This worked fine, and damage was mitigated with some strips of 3M painters tape.
Putting in the new tuners took a little bit of time, mostly due to a cautious approach. Ensuring correct placement – green dots for the higher strings – I was careful with the screwdriver to ensure I didn’t strip the screws.
I’ll need tapered strings, since the diameter of the largest tuner is 2mm (or 0.0787in). Some sets of Bass VI Balanced Heavy Gauges are on order from the fine folks at Stringjoy. Can’t wait!
Over a decade ago, I had to fly for work quite frequently. Streaming wasn’t really a thing back then, which left me only reading and writing to alleviate boredom. Once in a while, I would mix things up and think about maths problems.
I recently unified some of those airline thoughts; Python makes prototyping easy. I have opened up my GitHub repo a little. Constructive feedback is encouraged.
Edit (Jan 2026): I swapped from Python to Go. Email me for repo details.
You think you know what a diaspora is. But you have no idea how far and wide we travelled.
When The Happening occurred, we tried to fight, but the odds were stacked against us, so I am told. Our elders and our wise agreed the battle was unwinnable, and that for the good of our kind – our bloodline and heritage – we needed to run. But fleeing isn’t part of our DNA. Fighting is. So our running was fast, but it was heavy too. For every nimble step taken, there was a feeling of immense gravity pulling us back. And that pull did not diminish with distance. Nor time.
