Dim's Write Stuff

When the gorgeous ladies of Kids Book Review slung 12 curly questions my way recently, like a rapacious puppy, I couldn't help but chase after them, eager to give them a good gnawing over. The experience made me question something else also: the slippery egocentric thrill (most) of us gain from being asked something about ourselves. Given the time to actually think about your response is a blessing some interviewees don't always have, but when you do, I find it an interesting exploration of ones own psyche or concept of it. In other words, being forced to answer to yourself about yourself can be an honest way of hosing back the layers of obscuring detail we tend to let build up over time. Interviews  often evoke a sense of rediscovery and definition. After all, it's almost as fascinating and self satisfying to waffle on about yourself as it is to delve into the inner sanctums of those you are morbidly curious about. But mainly I find author interviews, whether my ow...

Does time really have the restorative abilities to salve all hurts, tame desires, or alter one's beliefs? Can time really change a person? Or is it what transpires within the passing of time that causes change? That which we call, ageing? The answers to these philosophical musings will not be found here. I barely realise there's been a passing of years; too busy barrelling head on into tomorrow to register now properly, let alone thank yesterday for all that it provided. That was then, this is now, but there once was a time..... About two decades ago..... * I shared my zeal for life and empty ramblings, taste in music and love of the sun, with friends on the beach, by the bar, in the night club or in a letter. We roamed in loud, raucous, carefree groups. We laughed and cried...together.  Me & Murray, the Giant Trevaly Getting a big catch rather than being one. HI 1992  Now..... * We immerse ourselves in individual, insular enjoyment; tra...