I made this banger of a literary reference at Josh's traditional long weekend BBQ (as confirmed by location tracking and on-this-day photo updates). We were playing a game called "Skull" after I ate two chicken schnitzels and the whole bowl of salad that I brought to share.

In Skull, you start with four cards and lose one each time you win a bid and then reveal a skull card. Because you have to reveal your own card first, if the previous process leaves you with only a single skull and no way to win the game against rational opponents, you are essentially out. But because the others don't know you have only a skull, there's a chance you can take someone down with you. This had some echoes of the final scenes of For Whom the Bell Tolls, the Hemingway classic about war and dying that I finished reading on the Sunday afternoon of the long weekend. The book was not without its issues, but I did find the final chapters to be immaculately well written and moving, though I don't rescind my complaints of earlier in the book, where repetitive internal monologues lasted whole chapters.

It was just good timing for the literary reference; if next weekend had held the public holiday Monday, chances are it would already have slipped from my mind. Before this weekend slips from my mind, a few highlights: On Saturday we visited the markets and drank coffee. On Sunday, I tuned Vanessa's bike as well as mine and we rode to Glenelg and back. We played mini golf and I won. On Monday we walked a loop around the lake, then I went to Josh's and I did not win a single game of Skull nor a game of Footy Feud either. After the BBQ I squatted 8,000 kg and then, after dinner, Vanessa and I walked on the sand. Daylight saving had started and we caught the colours of the sunset. It wasn't warm, but I wasn't on a hillside.

I came to the end of The Shepherd's Crown today, marking the end of my re-reading/mostly just reading of the Discworld novels that began back in the first winter of COVID, 2020.

Sir Terry has been dead almost a decade now, but with him being one of my writing inspirations since I was thirteen years old, I did feel fresh sadness as the book came to an end. And also when it started. The story itself deals a lot with death. And the writing, technically not even complete due to the ravages of Alzheimer's, and a bit under-cooked, was also a depressing reminder of mortality and the tragedy of dying with unfinished stories.

I can't think of any heroes that I have, but Terry Pratchett's writing was close. I started on his biography right after so that I can separate man from art, as I suspect all humans are not worthy of hero status. But stories might be. The narrative could be my hero. A hint of comedy, a clever twist, a satisfying conclusion, an endless string of sequels. Royalties. The fresh smell of paperbacks.

Anyway, no conclusion about or remedy for mortality in this article. I just thought it was worth trying to write 400 words.

The biggest difference between present day and the eighteenth century is probably just the sheer volume of humans on the planet. In 1776 the population of the planet was less than 10% of 2024. When I read about history what stands out most is how connected to each other everybody was.

Cook's Third Voyage around the world started with a mission to return Omai, an orphan of an inter-island war in Tahiti, back to his island. Omai spent two years in London, met the king, working on his goals of bringing gunpowder back to his home, and being a card playing socialite. Eventually he was put on to the ship with Cook by none other than the guy who invented the sandwich.

To get back to Tahiti, Cook and Omai visited Tenerife, South Africa, Antarctic Islands, Tasmania, and New Zealand. It was the fifth time Cook sailed a bunch of wood and nails into New Zealand... I've been there about ten times but only by plane.

Omai actually made it back to his home island, and according to the books, even managed to win a battle against the Bora Borans with his English armour and his gunpowder. He died a few years later, and Hampton Sides - author of A Wide Wide Sea - gave me the impression that he found this sort of tragic, that his time in England before being left in the Pacific was a negative thing. I felt the opposite. How many common humans lived their whole life in one place compared to those adventures. Cook made it to Hawaii, Oregon, Canada, Alaska, Russia and then - unfortunately for him - back to Hawaii again. That was just one of his voyages. Truly incredible what humans could do with the technology they had, both Europeans in ships and Polynesians carrying pigs and dogs across the sea in canoes. It is a big world and a small one. There's not a lot left to discover, but I'm still keen to explore it. Even more after reading that book.

The Demon of Unrest had been on my to-read list for a while, and the end of October/Start of November 2024 suddenly felt like the right time to read about Lincoln's election and inheritance of a divided America, and how the American Civil War broke out.

I am not implying that there are specific parallels to be drawn between 1860 and today, none that I want to explore. It was an interesting time in history, written about in an engaging and well structured way by Erik Larson.

While much of the book's material was sourced from Lincoln's papers and from the records of those facing the cannons on either side of the water of Charleston Harbour, the era was enriched further by excerpts from the diaries of "normal" people such as Mary Boykin Chesnut. And just like I did in 2020 during the Churchill book I found myself feeling like I should put more effort into my own diary journal in case Erik Larson or some future GPT version of him needed some source material for some book about events in 2025. But what significant world event would I need to add my observations on? And how was anything I wrote in Adelaide going to have relevance to that event? It would take some kind of major, global history making thing to happen for me to have any relevance.

Hmmm…

I reached the end of the excellent Utopia Avenue today. It took me a few weeks. The story was an absorbing ride through the late 1960's, with fully fleshed characters and a real example of how good writing benefits from having multiple protagonists. The way they interact, when they all have their own motivations and back-stories really gives them character. As someone who has been paid to write words about music - something that is not worth doing! - I also appreciated his technical ability to bring sound to life through the written word.

I have been listening to a lot of music from the era as well, thanks to its countless name drops, to try and enrich the senses, but I don't have any inclination to go down a psychedelic rabbit hole so I am writing this now to remember reading about Dean, Griff, Jasper and Elf.

To bring this journal entry back to my own life, I listened to that audiobook this morning while mowing the lawn, pruning the vines and sweeping up half-pecked lilly-pilly berries from the backyard. Then I did some rehab, lat pulldowns and side planks.

The weather so far this May has been amazing, other than the creepy stat that it has barely rained since January. This morning's walk to the bakery with Nash was especially picturesque.

The day after I posted last week's entry about reading less books, I took the lift down to the city streets at lunch with the intent to stay in the shade and stretch my legs. I didn't have anywhere specific to go, and the urge crossed my mind to walk to the city library and look at the books. Those withdrawals came a lot quicker than I expected. I didn't go to the library. I walked on the north and east sides of streets and listened to music instead of audiobooks.

The next day I was at home and it was the perfect lunchtime for sitting outside eating a giant salad and listening to an audiobook. Well perfect is an exaggeration, it was 34 degrees outside and I had to put my bowl in the freezer while I chopped up my lunch so that when I finished preparing it and took it outside the lettuce wouldn't wilt before I finished eating.

My original plan was to read two books each month. But, around that walk nearly to the library I decided that starting February's books a week before February would be okay, as that would still be finishing it in February. February was a lot more than a week away on the twelfth of January, but I started a new book anyway. I promised myself I would only consume this book at the same time I consumed salads on sunny days. With the recent heat wave, this has been every day.

This morning when I was out walking before work I saw this chalked on the sidewalk...

I read 44 last year, and that was with a month off during June for travel.

I finished my second book of 2024 this afternoon, Pax by Tom Holland. Another history book that was very interesting, but it's questionable how much of what I learned I'll actually retain. The tale of Sporus, most definitely… I'd hoped that having actually visited Rome now might help me feel more connected to the past when reading about it, but it did not really. So much changes during the lives of these people - including their names - that immersion two millennia later was always going to be a whimsy.

Reading less books should ideally reduce these feelings of over-consumption and disconnection. This will mean I enjoy the books I do read more, and maybe listen to the kind of song numbers this year that I did back in 2008.